Off Guard
by Arabesque01
Summary: Olivia was tough, she was strong, she was...vulnerable. In a mere couple of days, he had managed to do what a lifetime of hurt, pain, and utter depravity had failed to do. He had shattered her spirit, stripped her of her confidence. He had broken her. R
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

* * *

"Elliot." Olivia snapped her phone shut and came up behind her partner. He jerked his head up out of his hands. "Hey." Her voice softened. "Casey just called--guilty on all counts. It's finally over." She surveyed his face, searching for some emotion. He had been camped out at his desk all day with his head buried in paperwork. She always worried whenever he got like that. It meant something was up. She knew this case had been rough on him.

"It's never over. That little boy still doesn't have anyone. Where's the justice in that?" The images of the child, scared and alone haunted him. His family was shattered, and the boy had no home, no family. What kind of twisted world found justice in that?

"Elliot, there's only so much you can do."

"I know. It's just…it got to me you know." He finally allowed himself to look into her deep brown eyes, and he saw the genuine look of concern that clouded them.

"Yeah, I do." She saw the pain and knew that it was mirrored by the fact that as much as he hated sitting at a desk with a stack of paperwork, it was better than going home alone. Olivia shifted slightly as his eyes returned to the file lying open on his desk. "Hey," she suggested softly. "Wanna grab a drink at Maloney's?"

Elliot shrugged nonchalantly and averted his eyes away from her. "I don't know. I was thinking about finishing up some paperwork here, and…"

"Come on, El. The Bennett case is over. It's Friday night. Cap gave us the weekend off." She crossed her arms in front of her. "Let's get out of here." She knew he was weighing his options, wanting to leave, but not wanting her to feel as if she had to change her own plans, whatever they might be.

"All right, maybe I could go for a quick drink."

"Here." Olivia tossed him his jacket and grabbed her keys, tucking them into her left pocket.

* * *

"Oh, come on. You can't tell me that you really believe that." Olivia laughed and brushed back the bangs swinging into her eyes. They fell into a comfortable silence, both knowing what was coming next, but neither one willing to quell the light-hearted mood between them.

Her eyes darted back and forth, as if trying to decide how best to broach the subject. She didn't have the chance. "I'm okay, Liv, really."

She chose her words carefully when she responded. "I know you'll be okay. And I know that you're going to fight like hell to pretend that it doesn't bother you, but even though they're not right there with you, your kids are still there, Elliot. They're not going anywhere."

His head shot up, amazed at her innate ability to know exactly what was in his head. The protest that slipped from his lips died as soon as he met her steely gaze. She raised an eyebrow, challenging him to refute her. Crossing his arms over his chest, he straightened in his seat and met her defiant glare. She was stubborn as hell, and he knew it.

He forced out a shaky breath and let his arms fall to his side in defeat. As much as he might try to fight it, he knew without a doubt that he wasn't going anywhere tonight until he said something. She'd make damn sure of it. Elliot faltered for a moment, unable to form the words to describe the emotions that the case had stirred in him. "It's just so hard. It's almost like I can't protect them anymore. Hell, I don't even know where they are half the time. What if something happened?"

"There's always the chance of something happening, Elliot. Nothing you do can ever change that. You just have to move on with your life and hope for the best because if you don't, then you're always going to wonder what happened."

"You're right." He took a long, deep breath. "You're right. It's been a long week. I don't think we've slept in days. I think I'm going to head out. You want a ride home?"

"No, that's ok. I'm going to finish my drink, and then I think I'll walk home. The fresh air will do me good."

"You sure?" He surveyed her face, checking to make sure that she was okay, that he hadn't missed something. At her affirmative nod, he stood up. "All right, suit yourself."

As he reached for his jacket, she paused. "Hey, El. Are we still on for tomorrow night?"

He hesitated for a moment before answering. "Sure, but I think Kathy said she could drop the kids by for a little bit in the afternoon. I'm not sure what time. I'll call you."

She nodded, instinctively sensing his unspoken words. "Okay, but if you get busy with the kids, don't worry about it. I'll always be here another time. Just El, get some sleep."

"Yeah." Without another word, he turned and headed out the door, leaving her alone.

She stirred what was left of her drink and took one last sip as she watched him walk out the door. A voice behind her caused her to jump. "Here you go."

"Oh, I didn't order another…"

"I know, my treat." A man slid into the now vacant seat next to her. "By the way…Roger Hammond. And you are?"

"Getting ready to head out for the night." She cocked her head slightly, searching his eyes for a response. "And I don't need another drink."

He laughed. "Let me guess…you're a cop?" At the surprised look on her face, he elaborated. "Relax. I saw you with Elliot, but I didn't make it over before he left."

Olivia raised her eyebrow. "You know Elliot?"

"Well, knew Elliot...it's been a long time." He paused for a moment as he surveyed her face. "Although if I didn't, the fact that you approach anyone who walks up to you with immediate suspicion and won't take a drink from a perfect stranger may perhaps have given you away."

Her lips curved in a small smile. "Am I that obvious?"

He nodded. "Don't you ever wonder what it would be like to just relax for once? By the way, how are Kathy and the kids doing?"

Olivia relaxed visibly. "Well, he and Kathy are separated now. His kids are good. He tries to spend as much time with them as he can."

"That's too bad--stress of the job get to his marriage?"

"Uh, can't really say." Olivia shifted in her seat uncomfortably.

"Sorry. Are you two…"

"No. No. We," she paused, her mind struggling to form a single word that could somehow describe a relationship that she had been trying to define for the past eight years of her life. "We work together," she finished lamely. "I'm his partner, Olivia Benson." She offered him a small smile, sensing his discomfort.

"So, no more Pete, huh?"

She looked up in surprise. "You must go way back. Elliot barely mentions Pete." At his light-hearted tone, she felt slightly guilty about her original wariness of him. He seemed to be a decent enough guy, and she knew that Elliot was a good judge of character. She picked up the drink he'd offered her for the first time and took a sip. It was a little stronger than she was used to. "Wow, you trying to get me drunk?"

He laughed at the look on her face. "Nah, you just look like you've had a tough day. I figured you might want something a little stronger. If there's a problem with it, I can…"

"No. No, it's fine. Really. I'm actually coming off a pretty rough case so I guess you could say it's been a long few days." He didn't press for details, and she was relieved.

"So how long have you been partners?"

"Eight years."

"Eight years. That's a long time, especially in SVU. You must be close."

"Yeah." She swallowed hard. "We are." In the silence that followed, she tipped her drink back letting the burning liquid slide down her throat. She hesitated, trying to decide how much to confide in him. "You never mentioned how you knew Elliot."

"Of course. I met him on a case a few years back."

"You're a cop?"

"It was a long time ago, but I'll never forget the case. I'm sure you know the feeling."

His words hit her harder than she thought, and she fingered her drink again, buying time. The cases, the victims…it was something you didn't really get over. She drained her glass as if searching for a way around dealing with the question. "Yeah."

"Want another?" He eyed her empty glass for a moment.

"No, I don't think I better. Is it getting warm in here?" She shook her head, unaccustomed to the sudden warmth and dizziness that swept over her. She slipped her jacket off, and tossed it on the back of her chair. "I…uh I think I'm done for the night. Apparently the lack of sleep must be getting to me." She laughed uneasily.

His eyes roamed over her face carefully as if committing every detail to memory.

Her eyes started to flutter shut. "I'm sorry," she murmured quietly. "I'm just feeling a little bit shaky." She tried to stand up. Another wave of dizziness washed over her, and she felt herself stumbling slightly.

He caught her in his arms. "Olivia, are you really okay? I mean…look, Elliot would kill me if I left you here like this. Why don't you let me take you home?"

She pressed a hand to her temple and blinked hard, forcing herself to focus on the form blurring in front of her. "I'll be fine." The protest died on her lips as she felt a wave of nausea sweep over her. "I just need to go to the bathroom for a moment."

He nodded silently. "Here, let me help you. She accepted his arm and willed her legs to propel her forward. He wrapped his arm around her narrow waist to steady her as they crossed the room. When he released her, she managed to stumble through the door and into the nearest stall. She collapsed on the floor and waited until some strength returned to her body. She felt the bile rising in her throat and swept her hair back. After a few moments, she managed to draw herself to her feet and over to the sink. What the hell was wrong with her? She didn't think she'd had that much to drink. She splashed ice cold water on her face and was relieved to find the pounding in her head subside ever so slightly.

"Olivia? Are you okay?" The voice that called out to her was rising with concern, and she heard a knock before the door swung open. "Olivia, can I come in?" There was no answer. Then suddenly, she felt herself start to fall. She felt strong arms surround her, and somehow he helped her out of the bathroom, out of the bar, and she felt a moment of relief when she felt him help her into a car, and her legs finally gave out underneath her.

As he pulled away from the curb, she drew her arm up to her face to shade it from the intensity of the headlights shining through the windshield. Then, she felt him reach over and pull something from the right side of her belt. It took a moment for it to register. Then suddenly a wave of panic swept over her as she realized he had stripped away her last sense of security. "What…what are you doing?" she mumbled.

"Don't worry, Olivia. I'll take good care of you." She tried to fight back, but the dull pain in her body seemed to heighten as she struggled to maintain her grip on consciousness. Her breathing became ragged and uneven, and she squeezed her eyes shut as her body began trembling uncontrollably. Then suddenly, the pain faded away, and there was nothing left but darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

* * *

"All right, what have we got?" Elliot flashed his shield and pushed aside the crime scene tape to where Fin stood.

"Elliot, sorry to wake you up in the middle of the night. You heard from Liv?"

"Nah, not since last night. We went out for drinks. I didn't expect to…damn, I forgot to call her."

"Yeah, well, she probably won't answer her phone anyhow. I've been tryin' for about an hour. Then I decided to drag your ass out of bed."

Warner looked up from where she was examining the body. "Female victim…severe bruising of the wrists and pelvis. Cuts on the chest and neck, and…" Melinda paused for a moment as she pushed aside the jacket to reveal a deep bruising pattern. "Ligature marks on the neck."

"She was strangled. Any idea what the murder weapon was?"

"There's a small rectangular impression etched in the skin right here. My guess, he used a belt. I'll know more when I can get her to the lab, but…" She hesitated for a moment.

"What?"

"Well, the markings are too narrow to be a man's belt, and it obviously doesn't belong to her." Warner nodded at the dress the victim was wearing.

"All right, so we have a woman on her way home from a night out on the town. Perp sees her, corners her in the park, rapes her, then…chokes her with some other woman's belt. That doesn't make any sense. Maybe it's a dump job?"

Warner came up behind him. "There's something else, Elliot. ID in her wallet says her name is Leslie Carlton. The name doesn't ring a bell, but Fin found Liv's card tucked behind it."

Elliot paused, the confusion on his face evident. "We've worked everything together the last few months. I don't recognize the face or the name."

"Look what we got here." Fin crossed back over to Elliot, dangling a black belt with a silver buckle from his hand. "Perp left the murder weapon."

"Let me see that!" Elliot's words cut through the night with an unaccustomed edge to them.

"Damn, Elliot. That's the last time I wake you up."

"Melinda? Does that look familiar to you?" Before she could respond, he had his phone out and was dialing frantically.

"What's going on, Elliot?" Fin turned to Melinda to see a similar look of apprehension registering slowly.

"Damn it. She's not answering. Melinda, how soon can we have prints back on that?"

She was already dusting for fingerprints. "We don't know for sure, Elliot, but we're going to find out." Her lips were twisted into a grim smile.

"What the hell is going on?" Fin turned from Melinda to Elliot with growing concern.

Elliot's head was in his hands. "This doesn't make sense. That's Liv's belt. I know it is."

Fin drew in a sharp breath. "Elliot, go. I'll secure the scene." He picked up his phone and dialed quickly. After a moment, he spoke. "Captain, sorry to bother you. We may have a problem."

* * *

With every muscle in his six foot and one half inch frame trembling, Elliot leaned on the button in front of him. The accompanying buzzing seemed to only agitate him further, but he clung to the button as if his life depended on it. The harsh, bitter laugh that escaped from his lips was swept away by the sounds of the awakening city. What good was controlled access entry if it couldn't protect Olivia? Hell, what good was he as a cop if he couldn't even protect the one woman who relied on him more than anyone else? He swallowed hard.

_Come on…answer already._

In the back of his mind, he was praying that she would come to the door, pissed off that he had woken her in the middle of the night telling him that of course, it wasn't her belt. He could hear her voice chastising him…_Come on Elliot. Do you know how many people in New York have the same belt as me. It doesn't prove anything._

But the cop in him knew that it didn't fit. She didn't just ignore her phone. And her business card didn't just appear in the wallet of a dead woman who was strangled with a belt exactly like her own.

He had already tried to call her again, and his heart twisted in his chest when his worst fears were confirmed. There was no answer. He cursed to himself for not calling her earlier that day when Dicky and Elizabeth left. He hadn't wanted to tell her he still hadn't slept. He hadn't wanted her to know that the case had still been in his head.

Her words flashed back to him, and he felt numb to the core. _Okay, but if you get busy with the kids, don't worry about it. I'll always be here another time._

If something had happened to her, no one had even noticed because he hadn't been ready to face her again. He'd tried to convince himself that he had just forgotten, but he knew better. She was missing, and he hadn't noticed. Hell, if it hadn't been for this case, no one would have noticed she was gone until Monday morning when she didn't show up for work. He was sickened at the thought.

His reverie was interrupted by the sound of the door whipping open. "Who the hell do you think you are? Do you have any idea what time it is?" A balding man stood at the door, his arms crossed over his chest and a piercing glare in his eyes.

Elliot swallowed hard and flashed his shield, relieved to find that the super had finally answered the door, but dreading what he would find inside. "Detective Elliot Stabler, NYPD. I need you to let me inside apartment 2F." Without another word, he ignored the shock on the man's face, pushing past him as he raced up the steps. His feet traced the path he had taken many times before, but never with this impending sense of dread. He pounded on the door when he got there. "Olivia!" He hesitated only a moment before turning to the man who had followed him up the stairs. "I need you to open that door for me now."

The super fumbled with the key ring already in his hand until he found the right one. He unlocked the door and immediately stepped back. The sheer raw panic the detective emanated was unmistakable, and the super was not about to get in his way. Elliot drew his gun and pushed the door open. When it swung open, he blinked in the sudden darkness. He walked forward cautiously and reached for the light. The room filled with a soft light, and he relaxed his grip on his gun slightly. "Olivia?" He didn't expect an answer, but he knew he had to try. It took only moments for him to realize that no one was home. Without Olivia's presence, the rooms seemed cold and empty. He walked back through the apartment slowly, looking for any detail out of place.

"Looks like maybe she had other plans for the night." From where he stood in the doorway, the super nodded at both the un-slept in bed, and the abandoned glass of red wine on the coffee table. His insinuation was clear. She was a single woman who had gone out for the night and went home with someone else. Elliot refused to believe it. He knew that the call from the Bennett case had come in late at night, but Olivia had still been up. She had responded to the call in record time. The only other sign of life that he could see was where she had come home at some point to throw together a change of clothes before heading back to the precinct.

He turned to the super, his eyes burning. "Just go…" He almost didn't recognize the hoarseness in his own voice. If she had not been back since the Bennett case, she had not made it home Friday night after she left Maloney's. He started to shuffle through her dresser drawers. When he hadn't found what he was looking for, he turned to her closet. Nothing. He felt a pang of guilt as he rummaged through her stuff. He was invading her privacy…what the hell would she say if she found him here, if the super had been right. He crossed over to the blinking answering machine and pushed the button. Fin's voice sprang to life.

_Hey, Liv. Trying to reach you on your cell, but no answer so I thought I'd try you at home. Call me. I know you're off for the weekend, but I caught a case, and there's something you need to see. Oh yeah, and we're a little short-handed. Munch called in yet again…another bout of anthrax or something. Anyway, call me. I'm going to see if I can reach Elliot. _The machine beeped at him again. _You have no more new messages. Check erased messages…_

He didn't listen. He reached for his phone and dialed Fin. "Apartment's clear. It doesn't look like she's been home." His voice still sounded hoarse to his own ears.

"All right, Elliot. Come back to the house. Captain's here, and we dragged Munch in. Warner's at the lab now running prints. I left CSU to finish canvassing and processing the scene. I don't see much that's going to help us, but O'Halloran says he'll call if they find anything."

Knowing that there wasn't anything that would help them here, he stood up. He was already on his way out the door. "I'll be right there."

* * *

Olivia's eyes fluttered open slowly, and she tried to blink back the crashing pain that coursed through her body. She tried to pull herself up on her elbow, but found that she was unable to move. After a few moments, the cloud in her head began to clear and she realized that her arms were trapped over her head. The silver bracelets binding them together glinted and seeing the image in their reflection, she whipped her head up. "Morning sweetheart." He bent close to her, tenderly tracing the outline of her cheekbone. She jerked away. As she did, she felt a white hot pain shooting through her wrists. "Careful. I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."

"Where am I?" Her voice was barely audible, and he leaned closer to hear it.

"Don't worry. I'll take care of you."

"I can take care of myself." She tried to remember what had happened, but everything was a blur. She remembered going to Maloney's, remembered telling Elliot not to wait for her, and that she wanted to walk home. Vaguely, she could remember someone else talking to her--someone she knew. But after that, everything was fuzzy. How much had she had to drink? Had someone followed her home when she left? A quick glance down confirmed what she had already felt. Her gun was missing from her belt. But it wasn't the only thing missing. Olivia's eyes widened in shock as she looked at herself for the first time. Her knees instinctively curled up to her chest as she realized just how vulnerable she was.

His lips curled into a satisfied smirk at the sudden look of recognition on her face. She read the expression in his icy eyes and shivered. Why couldn't she remember what had happened? Olivia buried her face in her knees, not wanting him to see her until she could gain control over her emotions. Bitter tears stung her eyes and blurred the image that was forever embedded in her memory.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

* * *

"Elliot." Cragen motioned him over as soon as he stepped through the door.

"Please tell me we have something." Elliot's voice cracked as he spoke, but the look on his captain's face was grim.

"Munch. Fin. Over here, now." Through his own sorrow, he looked into his senior detective's eyes and saw raw panic and fear. "Elliot, come here." He softened his voice and led them all over to the board. "All right, now that we're all here, what have we got?"

Fin reached over and taped the first photo on the board. "Victim's name is Leslie Carlton. Young couple out for a late night stroll through the park called it in. She was raped, beaten, and strangled. Several small cuts on her neck and chest inflicted pre-mortem. Warner puts time of death sometime between midnight and 2 am. She hadn't been there long when they found her. Murder weapon was a belt found at the scene."

"But why strangle her? He has a knife. Why not just use that?" Cragen furrowed his brow in confusion.

"Maybe there are two do-ers." Munch suggested casually.

"Or maybe he's trying to make a statement." Fin paused momentarily. "Melinda just called with the results from the prints she lifted off of it. Two sets of prints. First set is the victims. Looks like she tried to pull away. Second set of prints was a hit in the system." He hesitated. "Elliot was right. They're Liv's."

"What else?" Cragen turned to Munch, as if pleading for more answers.

"Sorry Cap, I ran the MO through VICAP and came up with nothing."

"Nothing from the couple who found her either. We can start canvassing the neighborhood in another couple of hours," Fin offered.

"This guy wasn't afraid of getting caught. He left the body someplace out in the open. He can't be a first timer. Elliot…" Cragen hesitated, not wanting to voice the words out loud. "When's the last time you saw Olivia?"

Elliot looked up slowly. "Friday night. We left the house about eight and went to Maloney's for drinks. I left at about ten to go home. I…I tried to offer her a ride home. She wouldn't take it. Said she was going to finish her drink and wanted to walk home. I…I was supposed to call her today." He paused realizing what time it was… "Well yesterday. We had plans last night, and I told her I'd call her when Elizabeth and Dicky left." He stopped as he realized how dangerously close he was to breaking down in front of his colleagues. "I didn't…I never called her. If I had called her, I would have known."

"Elliot, it's not your fault." Munch touched a hand to his shoulder.

He shook it off as if it had burnt him. "I was supposed to protect her!"

"Elliot, you weren't working a case. Do you know how many times we've all let our guard down off the clock? Besides, we all know what Liv's like. If she didn't want a ride, she sure as hell wasn't going to let you give her one. Now blaming yourself is not going to help anyone here." Cragen's voice was gentle, but firm. "All right, Munch, I need you to find out anything you can on our victim. Find out who this girl is and where she came from. And start going over any recent parolees. See if you can find anyone who has a grudge against Olivia. Fin…call the lab and CSU to see if Warner has anything new to report. I'm going to wake up the doc and get Huang started on a profile. We're going to need every bit of help we can get."

"Captain, what about me? I'm not sitting this one out." Elliot looked up, a flash of anger pushing the desperation back momentarily.

"No one expects you to, Elliot. Now, you all have your orders. If you get anything--anything at all, notify me immediately. Go." As everyone else scrambled to get back to work, Cragen turned back to Elliot.

"Elliot, my office."

Wordlessly, Elliot followed his captain. When the door closed behind him, he spoke. "Captain, I'm fine. I can handle this."

"You're not fine, Elliot. But right now I can't afford to lose you. You need to keep your emotions in check because as soon as you start to lose it, I'm pulling you out." He eyed him for a moment. "Now, I want you working with Fin. As soon as you get the report from the ME and CSU, I want you two camped outside Maloney's. See if you can find out when Olivia left, and if she was alone. And Elliot…" Cragen hesitated. "We're going to find her."

* * *

The soft footsteps faded away and the room was filled with silence. When Olivia finally dared to raise her head, her eyes were dry. She surveyed her surroundings carefully as she struggled to make sense of the situation. She didn't know what had happened or how she had ended up here. The lapse in her memory was almost as bad as the situation itself. For a moment she wondered how he had managed to take advantage of her. Unless…her breath caught in her throat as a sudden thought occurred to her. What if she had come here on her own? What was left of her clothing was torn, but she couldn't remember how it had gotten that way.

Had she been drunk…had she had sex? And if so, had it begun as a consensual liaison? Maybe she had led him on, even encouraged him. She couldn't remember saying "no." Olivia felt herself drowning in tears of self doubt. She shook her head contemptuously as if to clear away the emotions swirling around her.

She forced the questions to the back of her head, and the cop in her began to focus on what she did know. She searched for something to tell her where she was…some indication of who he was. The room was dimly lit, cold, and damp. It was completely void of any personal touch. A basement, she wondered. She let her eyes wander up to the handcuffs binding her hands to the bed. Bracing herself for the accompanying stab of pain, she brought her arms crashing down against the rail that bound them. She could feel the bed shake under the pressure, but the rails held tight. She tried again…and again…and again. She gritted her teeth, oblivious to the swelling of her wrists, the trickle of blood, or the throbbing pain. She didn't know how long she had been trying when exhaustion and pain gave way. She let her body go limp, and dejectedly slumped against the frame she had tried so hard to break.

"Don't tell me you're tired already." The voice came out of nowhere. She whipped her head around in the semi-darkness, her eyes focusing on the shadows, searching for some movement. She felt the mattress move underneath her, and a warm breath on her skin made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. "I'm just getting started," he whispered. A chill ran down her spine as he sidled up next to her. Then with one single movement, her elbow made contact with the side of his face, and she could hear his sharp intake of breath.

"Get the hell away from me." All her doubts were gone, pushed aside by the absolute fury that overcame her. She was _not_ a victim, and she was not about to let herself become one.

He rubbed the side of his face with one hand. "Feisty, are we? I expected nothing less from you. But you really don't want me to get mad." She let him get close again, and then brought both of her feet crashing into his chest. This time he was prepared. He staggered back only slightly before using all of his weight to pin her down. It wasn't until it was too late that she first saw the light bouncing off of the metallic object in his hand. In a moment, he had the knife to her throat, and she could feel it pressing into her skin.

She stopped fighting and froze instantly.

The knife…she closed her eyes remembering the moment it had torn into her flesh. She remembered the look of panic in Elliot's eyes as he rushed over to her instead of pursuing Gitano to save Ryan.

In a single moment, every nightmare that had kept her awake the past few months came crashing back to her. There was a helplessness in knowing that her senses were still somewhat disoriented, that her arms were trapped above her head. She forced herself to resume breathing. She had survived then, she could survive now. Her inability to fight back physically wouldn't stop her. "What do you want from me?"

"It's not you I want." He gently let the tip of the knife trace a path down her neck and across her chest.

"Then why me? Why stalk me and bring me here?" She took a chance on the last one and was relieved to see the surprise that registered on his face.

"Who said I stalked you?" The recovery was so smooth, she hesitated, wondering if she'd imagined it. She pressed harder.

"Oh, come on. A smart guy like you. You couldn't just pick anyone."

He smiled. "No. But you…you're special."

"That's right. Because I'm a cop…a special victims cop. But then again, you already knew that." She spoke slowly, gauging his reactions carefully. His face remained stoic, but she saw the flicker of acknowledgement in his eyes. "You know I've been dealing with sex crimes for years, but you…you're different."

He seemed intrigued. "I'm not like everyone else. I tried to tell them that."

"And they wouldn't listen." She let sympathy creep into her voice. "So you had to show them." She encouraged him gently--pressing him, pushing him until she was sure he was going to break.

His eyes were locked with hers, and his grip relaxed on the knife. It was the moment she had been waiting for. She tried to roll out away from him, but it was too late. He felt her weight shift underneath him and moved quickly. Her right foot sprung up to defend herself against the blade piercing her skin . She heard a clatter as her foot made contact with the knife. She never saw it hit the floor. A rough hand reached out to grab her, and she pushed with her legs to back away from him. His fingers grasped thin air. His face began to darken, and Olivia felt her control on the situation diminishing.

"You're going to regret that." His face turned another shade darker, and she trembled as cold waves of fear washed over her. She tried to push back further and realized he had completed backed her up against the bed rails. She stared back at him, his face contorted in fury and realized that she was trapped. He used his weight to hold her down as one arm swung in a clean arc, hitting her squarely in the face. After the second blow, the pain barely registered as she twisted her body over to her side to protect herself. She struggled to hold herself up against the crushing blows. As she did, she lost her balance and felt herself start to fall. Both of his arms pushed, and she heard a crack as her head hit the headboard with a blinding force.

Suddenly, everything was spinning out of control. Olivia squeezed her eyes shut and fought back the tears that threatened to spill over. She didn't realize he had the knife again until she felt the searing, numbing pain. "Don't touch me." She braced herself for the next blow. It never came. Instead, she felt him shifting underneath her and realized too late what he was doing. She recoiled as if she'd been slapped. "Please….no." She tried to crawl away, but through the blinding pain, she wasn't sure which direction would lead her away from the hands that clawed at her body. She shrank back as he forced her legs apart, forcing himself upon her. "No….please….no." She tried to fight against him, but her body was screaming in protest, and she was powerless to stop it. Instinctively, her eyes started to flutter shut, and she strained to keep them open. She forced herself to watch, to absorb every detail. She knew, even before she felt him push inside her, that it was too late.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

* * *

"You're looking for a white male, probably in his mid to late thirties." George Huang stared at the photos on the board, carefully analyzing every detail. "He's meticulous, and he's been planning this for a long time. Every detail was carefully thought out…except the victim. I don't think he knew her, but he had a very good idea who he was looking for. She's white, middle aged, mid to upper class. This isn't his first time, but I think he's stepping outside his comfort zone. I would guess his previous victims were submissive. He chose her because he wanted her to fight, and sometime during the attack, something she said or did set him off. That's why he used the knife…to try to control her."

"So why the belt?" Cragen stepped closer, searching for a glimpse of something new, some insight into the case that frightened them all.

"Because it has significance to him, he's impatient. He's been waiting for this day to come for a long time. He picked a public place in a well-traveled park. He wasn't afraid of being caught. He wanted us to find the body right away. He's trying to make a statement. And he couldn't wait for you to discover that Olivia is missing so he went out of his way to make sure that you go looking for her. She's the key to figuring out who he is."

"So how do we find this guy?"

"He's playing games with you. I think his attack on Leslie Carlton is actually a cry for attention. He needs you to know that he has Olivia. He wants you to know that he has the ultimate control over her, and that she's at his mercy."

"How much time do we have?"

"Right now, he wants her alive. He's still playing games." Huang stopped for a moment, carefully phrasing his next words. "But he's extremely volatile. He has too much invested in this. If something she says or does sets him off, he could fly into another violent rage…"

* * *

"I just can't believe she's dead." Annabelle Watterson turned slowly to face John Munch. She brushed a slender hand through wispy tendrils of honey blond curls as he took a seat in front of her desk.

"Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to hurt her?"

"Of course not. Everyone loved Leslie."

"What about a boyfriend? Was she seeing anyone?"

Annabelle shook her head. "Leslie always said she never had time for a boyfriend. She was very career-oriented. But, she was married once. Her husband died about five years ago from cancer. She never really got over it. I think she was afraid to open up again."

"How well did you know her?"

"About as well as most people. She was independent, assertive. She threw herself into her career after Matthew died and didn't really let anyone get too close."

Munch paused for a moment and pulled out a photograph, taking special care to avert his eyes away from the image. "Have you ever seen her with this woman?"

Annabelle shook her head. "No, I don't recognize her."

"She's a detective in the Special Victims unit. We found her business card tucked behind Leslie's driver's license. Do you have any idea how it could have gotten there?"

Annabelle looked genuinely surprised. "No, I can't imagine why. No one had been bothering her."

Munch took a deep breath. "You sure about that?" At her affirmative nod, he let it drop. "All right, when was the last time you saw her?"

"Well, she left the office early on Monday afternoon, said she had some errands to run. She told me she wouldn't be back in until Thursday morning. She was going to be working from home with our marketing directors to get ready for an upcoming fundraising gala. The gala was last Wednesday night. They were supposed to meet that next morning for breakfast to wrap everything up. When she didn't show up…"

Annabelle's lower lip was trembling, and she paused for a moment. "I….I knew something was up. She's been working on this project for six months. Our beneficiaries came in Thursday morning and were furious. They demanded to know where she had been the night before. I told them they must be mistaken. She wouldn't miss it for the world." Her eyes welled up slightly at the memory. "She told me she was on her way to pick up her dress when I talked to her Wednesday afternoon."

"Do you happen to have the name of the dress shop?" He waited, the pen in his hand poised.

"Sure, Leslie always goes to the same place. The name is Estello's. I….I think I have a business card somewhere." She dug around for a moment before passing a card to Munch. He slipped it in his pocket before turning back to her.

"Did Leslie have any family in the area?" Munch had already scanned the office for any photographs and wasn't surprised at the answer.

"No, she never talked about any family. Her parents passed away when she was in college, and she was an only child. After her husband got sick, she was all alone."

"All right, thanks for your time." Munch stood up and dug through his pocket. "Here's my card. If you think of anything else that might be helpful, let me know."

* * *

"Melinda, please tell me you have something." Elliot crossed the room to where Warner stood, her back to him.

Melinda looked up from the paperwork in her hand and crossed over to the examination table. "Official cause of death is ligature strangulation, but he put her through hell and back first." She brushed back the sheet covering Leslie's body and gently reached for her arm. "Restraint marks on the wrists indicate she was probably tied up for a long period of time."

"Any idea what he used?" Fin stepped closer to examine the markings carefully.

"We found blue fibers that we matched up to this ratcheting strap." Melinda reached for a photo and handed it to Fin. "Unfortunately, it's available just about anywhere."

"So no way to trace it back to the perp." Elliot's frustration was evident. "What else?"

"The cuts on her neck and chest were all inflicted pre-mortem. No sign of a knife, but you're looking for a blade about three to five inches long with a serrated edge."

Melinda took a deep breath and stepped closer to the body, raising an imaginary knife to demonstrate her point. "It looks like he lost control. All of the wounds are slashing as if he was lashing out at her, but he missed the carotid artery. Not enough damage to kill her, but enough to put her in a severe state of shock."

"Was she raped?" Fin's voice was grim, preparing himself for the inevitable answer.

Melinda nodded affirmatively. She hesitated for a moment before continuing. "Yes, and from the looks of it…repeatedly." She didn't elaborate. They didn't need to know the details. It wouldn't help. But even as she tried to cushion the blow, she knew it was too late.

Elliot turned away and took a long, deep breath as he fought for control. "Any fluids?" His voice cracked as he spoke.

She smiled for the first time. "Rape kit turned up traces of semen. We've got his DNA, but he's not in the system."

"Got to love a perp that leaves his calling card," Fin commented quietly. The DNA would help convict once they had a suspect, but it also meant that several of the suspects Munch was looking at could be cleared very easily. He pulled out his phone and started dialing.

As Fin turned away, Melinda turned back to Elliot. "There's one more thing. Her tox screen came back."

"Alcohol in the system?" Elliot suggested.

"No, Midazolam."

He frowned. "What's that?"

"It's a benzodiazepine derivative frequently used for minor dental surgeries."

"A tranquilizer?"

"Yes, there's a puncture mark I initially missed because it was hidden behind the bruising. He used a small amount, enough to render her unable to fight back, but still enough that she would have been aware of everything he did to her.

Sensing the finality in her voice, Elliot started toward the door. "All right, Melinda. If you get anything else…"

"Don't worry, Elliot. You'll be the first to know."

* * *

As the door swung shut behind him accompanied by the chime of a bell, Munch brushed a bead of sweat off his forehead. He was exhausted--emotionally and physically. It had been a long and disappointing day, but he knew that the pounding headache and burning fever were nothing compared to what Olivia must be going through now. "Hello?" He turned toward the counter, searching for some sign of life.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'll be with you in just a moment." The words were muffled. The man in front of him slipped a pin out of his mouth and used it to drape the leftover fabric in his hand over a mannequin. He quickly crossed over to where Munch stood. "Sorry about that." He smiled ruefully. "I guess I didn't hear you come in. What can I do to help you?"

Munch's initial surprise rapidly dissipated. He flashed his shield. "Detective John Munch."

"Anthony Estello," he responded. "Is everything all right?"

Munch pulled out a photo of Leslie Carlton. "Do you recognize this woman?"

Anthony took the photograph in his hand, surveying it hastily. "Leslie Carlton. Sure, I know her." He brushed back a shock of dark hair with a boyish smile. "She's been coming here for years."

"When's the last time you saw her?"

Anthony paused, searching his memory. "This past week, it was Tuesday…no Wednesday afternoon. She came to pick up a dress. It was a rush order…said in all her planning, it had completely slipped her mind."

"Which dress did she order?"

"Oh, she didn't order one…at least not in that sense. Leslie needed something for some big gala dinner. We always do custom designs for big events like that." He paused briefly. "Even on short notice."

"Custom designs. How much does that run?"

Anthony shrugged casually. "This one was only about three thousand dollars."

"Three grand for a dress you wear one night! No wonder my exes keep taking me to court for more alimony."

An amused look crossed over Anthony's face. "She had impeccable taste, but she wasn't like many of our other clients, very down to earth. I think this was one of the few places she really chose to indulge herself."

"Can you describe this dress?"

Anthony turned his back to Munch and dug through a stack of files. "I can do you one better." Triumphantly, he flipped open the file and pulled out a picture. "Here's a rendering of the design."

Munch nodded. "Mind if I take this with me?"

He shook his head. "Nope. I never reuse a design. Is everything okay with Leslie?"

"Leslie was attacked on Saturday night." Munch gauged his reaction carefully.

There was a shocked silence before he responded. "What happened? Is she okay?"

"She was murdered."

Anthony sat down, the color draining from his face. "Murdered…but who would ever want to hurt Leslie?"

Munch's voice softened. "That's what we're trying to find out. Were you two close?"

"No, no. I mean…I've known Leslie for years. She's one of my best customers, but she pretty much kept to herself. I can't imagine anyone wanting to hurt her." His face was troubled. "Please, if there's anything I can do to help, let me know."

"When she came in the other day, was she alone?"

"Yes, she always came in alone."

Munch looked around. "Did you see anyone paying special attention to her?"

Anthony shook his head. "I wish I could help, but it's pretty quiet around here. I never saw anyone else."

"Okay, thanks." Munch reached into his jacket and pulled out a business card. "If you think of anything else…"

"Don't worry, I'll be sure to call you."

* * *

"Well, that was a big waste of time," Fin grunted as he crossed the street to meet Elliot. "No one saw or heard anything. In fact, I'm not so sure they even know who their own neighbors are."

Elliot nodded in response. "I knew that going in. Olivia wasn't any better. She said she spent too much time looking at my ugly mug." His eyes were trained straight ahead, and his jaw was clenched tightly. For a brief moment, he paused uncertainly outside the heavy mahogany door in front of him. His fingers closed around the knob, and as the door swung open, they both stepped inside.

"Fin. Elliot. What can I get for you?" Ray Maloney dismissed the man who stood before them with a quick glance and stepped over to take his place at the bar.

Fin took the lead, sliding in an empty seat. "We're not here for pleasure, Ray. You remember seein' Olivia here Friday night?"

"Sure." Ray nodded to Elliot. "She came in with you for a couple hours." The curiosity on his face was evident.

"How about after I left?" Elliot's voice was strained.

Ray paused as he wracked his memory. "Well, I closed out her tab before you left. But I kind of remember seein' her talking to some new guy. They seemed to know each other. I think he uh…even helped her out when she'd had a little too much…if you know what I mean."

Elliot's head shot up. "I thought you said you'd closed out her tab."

"Yeah."

"She wasn't drunk when I left. What happened?"

"I don't know. Maybe her boyfriend bought her a drink."

Fin traded a look with Elliot. "Liv wouldn't accept a drink from someone she didn't know. You recognize anyone that night?" Elliot shook his head wordlessly.

"They seemed awful cozy when they left," Ray added. He paused, sensing the tension. "She okay?"

Elliot's phone rang, and he stepped aside for a moment. "Stabler."

Fin turned back to Ray. "We don't know. We're tryin' to find her. I don't suppose this guy happened to use a credit card?"

Ray paused. "Can't remember. Give me a minute." He shuffled through the paperwork he'd been working on when they came in. "Here's your guy, scotch on the rocks…" His eyes scanned over the receipt. "And it looks like it's your lucky day."

Fin nodded silently. Finally, a solid lead. "All right. We're gonna need a copy of that."

Ray handed it to him. No problem, anything I can do to help. I can run off another one for our records."

Fin slid off the bar stool. "Thanks for your help." He turned toward Elliot as he snapped his phone shut.

"That was Captain. Munch has got something. Let's get back to the house."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

* * *

"All right, any leads yet?" Casey pushed open the door to Cragen's office. A single, pale beam of light illuminated the room. Cragen sat at his desk, an empty liqueur glass in front of him. He didn't move when he heard her voice, and she froze in her tracks. "Don?"

He finally spoke. "You know. I sat here all night with an empty glass. There's a bottle of vodka in my drawer. And I know…I know that I could just fill it and drain all of my problems away."

Her footsteps were light as she crossed the room. "But you didn't." It was a statement, but it wasn't without question.

He shook his head softly. "You know, I've worried about her before. She doesn't have any family and sometimes she takes these cases too personally. I've worried that she'll push herself so hard she won't know when to stop."

Casey sat across from him, watching his bravado crumble, and she felt tears well up in her own eyes. Cragen had always been the strength behind the unit. He never faltered, never questioned…until now. She didn't know what to say. It didn't matter. He broke the silence.

"The Bennett case was tough on her. It was tough on Elliot too, but in a different way. Elliot saw a child without a family to take care of him. But Olivia, she saw a mother who couldn't bear to look at what she'd done. She saw a mother so obsessed with her past that she let it consume who she was and how she lived her life."

"I never thought about it that way. It must have been rough on Olivia."

Cragen nodded. "She talked to me about it a few nights ago. She's spent her whole life trying to find something positive in what happened to her mother. She was worried that it would turn her into someone she didn't want to be. She wanted to have hope that there was good out there somewhere, but the job…it gets to you. It makes it hard to trust. It makes it hard to let your guard down. She told me that for once in her life, she wanted to experience what it was like to not feel that."

"Don, that doesn't mean that this is your…" The words trailed off as they heard a rap at the door.

It swung open silently, and Elliot stood in the doorway. "We've got a possible lead from a credit card receipt at Maloney's. Ray remembers Olivia leaving with somebody. We're trying to track him down now. And Munch has something on the other vic."

The change in Cragen's demeanor was instantaneous. He straightened up in his seat. "All right, I'll be right there. Casey…"

She nodded. "No, go. I just came to tell you that I'm here as soon as you need anything. We're in this together."

* * *

Olivia tried to lift her head, but it felt too heavy. Her entire body felt heavy. Through the cloud surrounding her, she could hear noises, and she tried to call out for help, but no sound escaped. She could feel the floor moving beneath her, and for the first time, she realized that they were no longer in the basement. Vaguely she wondered how long she had lost consciousness…how long she had been trapped in this nightmare? She wondered when he would tire of this game, or when her body would give out. Despite the grogginess, she knew from the way her shirt clung to her body that it was damp with blood. Everything else was dark. Had be blindfolded her with something? She strained to remember, and for the first time in her life, she prayed…prayed that the darkness enveloping her was his doing and not something more.

She started to mentally calculate their movements…a right turn, then two more stops before she felt them veer in the other direction. With every passing moment, she could feel the will to fight draining from her body. She closed her eyes as she realized that it wouldn't help. She didn't know how long she had been out of it, and she had no point to start from. She didn't think it was possible to cry any more, but tears of frustration burned at her eyes. How did this happen? She'd been in impossible situations before--she had stared down the barrel of a gun more times than she could count, but there was always hope. There was always a chance to escape…always Elliot right there watching her back. But there was no one here with her now. She didn't know how long it had been--didn't even know if anyone had noticed she'd never made it home.

Olivia didn't have time to dwell on her thoughts. She felt her body lurch as they came to a sudden halt. She pressed herself into the floor as she heard footsteps approaching. She was so weak. She knew better than to try to fight so she did the only thing she could think of…she let her body go limp as calloused hands reached for her and lifted her out of the van.

* * *

"Leslie Carlton didn't just disappear." Munch paused ceremoniously as he stared at the look of anticipation on his colleague's faces. "She's been missing for five days."

Fin mentally calculated dates in his head. "So she was kidnapped on Wednesday?"

"Wednesday night to be specific. She was last seen leaving a dress shop by the name of Estello's," Munch added looking up from his notes.

Fin swiveled around in his chair. "Warner doesn't put time of death till Saturday night. That means the perp didn't kill her until day three."

Elliot looked up from the phone cradled on his shoulder. His face was grim. "Liv's on day three now."

"All right, people. Let's not assume the worst. Now, did we get anything from the canvas?" Cragen interceded quickly, sensing the rising distress fueled by the lack of sleep on everyone's part.

"Nothing. No one saw anything…no one heard anything." Fin shook his head, his frustration evident.

"Or if they did…they're certainly not talking to us," Elliot added.

"Munch, what else do we know about the first victim?"

"She was a single woman in her late thirties. Everyone I talked to describes her as successful, but loved by many." Munch paused. "So many in fact that no one bothered to report her missing when she didn't show up for work four days ago," he added wryly. The piercing glare in Elliot's eyes silenced him.

"All right, we can fight later," Cragen interrupted. "Right now, the clock's ticking, and Olivia's still out there. We've been at this for over twenty-four hours, and so far we've got next to nothing. Now, what do we know about this mystery date?"

Fin stepped in smoothly. "Not much. Ray doesn't know the guy. But he did pay by credit card. Card says he's Roger Hammond. We checked on the name, it looks like a fake. Elliot's on the phone with the credit card company now."

"No, that's impossible…check on that again!" Everyone turned at the sound of Elliot's voice, rising hysterically on the phone. He slammed down the receiver, all of the color draining from his face. There was complete silence in the squad room as everyone waited for him to speak.

Finally Cragen interceded. "Elliot?" he prompted.

Elliot caught his breath before he finally spoke. "The address on the credit card is my apartment."

Cragen was the first to shatter the stunned silence. "Elliot? When's the last time you were home?"

He responded slowly. "Saturday night, I was asleep when Fin called. I threw some clothes on and went straight to the scene. There's no way I'd go home with Olivia missing."

"This guy's been playing games with us the whole time," Fin interjected.

"And he was counting on the fact that none of us would take a break as long as Olivia was gone." Munch spoke the words on everyone's mind.

Without a word, they were on their feet and already on their way out the door. Cragen slid into the squad car beside Elliot and slammed the door shut behind him as Elliot yanked the steering wheel away from the curb. The closer they got, the harder his heart seemed to pound in his chest. Elliot slammed his foot on the accelerator, deadening the seemingly placid morning air. From far off in the distance, the sun was just beginning to break through the clouds. It rose stealthily from the shadows, casting its rays in hues of brilliant colors. They were still a block away when Elliot first saw the spark of light reflecting somewhere in front of him. When he realized what he was looking at, Elliot slammed his foot on the brake, and the tires spun out of control before settling to a screeching halt.

He could not remember getting out of the car, but suddenly he felt cement under his feet. For a moment that seemed to be suspended in time, Elliot felt as if he were a child peering through a window, watching animatedly at the world through an unyielding pane of glass. A towering wall of fire stood in front of him, enveloping the second floor of his building. With a sudden clarity that caused him to fall staggering to the ground, Elliot realized that the base of the fire was tediously working its way along the outside wall of his apartment.

* * *

Olivia's breathing was shallow, and her lungs strained for oxygen. She forced back a shudder of revulsion as she felt his hands roaming up and down her body. They came to rest on her face. She squeezed her eyes shut as he pulled the fabric away from her eyes. She felt him release his hold on her, and Olivia waited until the footsteps faded away before she dared open her eyes again. She tried to focus, but everything was still so hazy. She had to be dreaming. Her eyes darted back and forth as she surveyed the familiar surroundings. She tried to pull herself up to a sitting position, but the accompanying stab of pain jolted her back to reality.

Olivia was still for a moment, listening intently. As the incessant crackling began to register, she let her eyes slowly trace the outline of the room. She stared into the depths of the fire in front of her. The flame flickered and greedily reached out toward her. Her knees instinctively curled up to her chest as if to protect herself, and a single tendril of dark hair fell forward into her face. Her eyes remained fixed on the ghastly sight as the flames consumed everything around her. She was numb to the core, unable to think clearly. Black clouds of smoke enveloped her, wrapping their long, slender fingers around her pale throat as if choking any life away from her. Her eyes widened with fear as she realized that the raspy, choking sounds heard above the crackling flame were coming from her own throat. At last, Olivia could take it no more. She squeezed her eyes shut and collapsed, a victim to the awaiting flames.

As she fell, Elliot struggled to his feet, pushing past the arms that tried to hold him back and ran into the building. He took the stairs two at a time. Once on the second floor, he stood in the stairwell, his eyes searching for some sign of life in the eerie darkness. Pushing his way through to his apartment, he swung the door open and caught a glimpse of a pale form in a heap on the ground. Frantically, Elliot reached out for her and felt for a pulse. It was faint, but it was still there.

In between flickers of light, he could see her arms dangling lifelessly over her head and realized that she had been handcuffed to the radiator. He slipped his jacket off and instinctively reached for his belt. His fingers closed around a cool, hard piece of metal, and as if by memory, he inserted the key in the lock. As soon as he released them, her arms dropped to her side like a rag doll. Elliot wrapped her slender figure in his jacket. He clutched her limp body close to his throbbing chest and ran, away from the smoldering smoke and dancing flames to the mist he hadn't even realized had begun to fall. It wasn't until he reached the safety of the squad cars that he allowed himself to stumble into the darkness which surrounded him.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

* * *

Loud voices reverberated through the brightly lit corridor. Cragen's fingers traced the pattern on the edge of the window sill. They came to rest on the smooth surface of a ceramic pot. He carefully picked at what was left of a crumbling, wilted leaf--anything to keep his hands busy, to occupy his mind from the events of the past few hours.

"Donald Cragen?" The voice that called out was hesitant, but it was enough to break him from his reverie. He turned away from the window and approached the source of the voice.

"I'm Donald Cragen." His face was pale, and deep creases lined his forehead. His eyes searched the face of the nurse who approached him for some sign. "How are they?"

"Oh, Elliot will be fine. He just had some minor smoke inhalation. He's been fighting us since the bus ride here to let him go." The tiniest smile crossed over her lips. "But we assured him that he would get to the hospital much faster if he rode along with us. EMS has already cleared him to go. He's in with Olivia now." She paused, weighing her next words carefully.

"And Olivia…"

"Olivia's another story. God knows what she's been through…her system has had quite a shock. She's been in and out of consciousness. She wouldn't let us take her into surgery until we'd done a rape kit and taken photos. She's stabilizing now, and we have her on oxygen to treat the smoke inhalation. How long has she been missing?"

"Since Friday night."

"She's extremely dehydrated. I don't think she's had any food or water since she disappeared. Preliminary tox screen is showing signs of Midazolam so we're not sure how long it will be before she'll be able to tell us about the attack. She's still pretty out of it."

Cragen swallowed hard. "Was she raped?"

"It looks like it," the nurse confirmed. "The rape kit revealed severe internal and external trauma." She paused to let him digest the information before pressing on. "She's one hell of a fighter. We also have several stab wounds to the shoulder and back, a concussion, broken ribs, and multiple contusions and lacerations." She glanced down at the clipboard in her hand before continuing. "She had you and Elliot listed as next of kin. Does she have any family we should notify?"

Cragen shook his head. "We're all the family she's got," he responded softly. "Can I see her?"

The nurse nodded. "She's still in ICU until she regains full consciousness, and we make sure she's okay. It might be good to have someone she recognizes there when she wakes up, but make sure there's no more than two people in there at a time. And Donald…" The nurse raised her eyes to meet his. "Keep in mind, she's been through a lot the last couple of days. We're not sure how she'll react yet."

His nod conveyed an understanding of the unspoken words in a way that could only be gleaned from far too many years of watching a victim lash out at the only one present when they awoke from an attack. "Which way?"

Her voice was gentle. "I'll take you there." She led him through the twisted hallways until they came to a door at the end of the hallway marked 422. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door and stepped inside.

Nothing the nurse had told him could have possibly prepared him for what he saw next. A knot formed in his throat as he took in the image before him. Dark hair spilled out around the pillow in stark contrast to the absolute pallor of her skin. Olivia was completely still. The slight rising and falling of her chest was his only indication of her labored breathing. Her delicate features were contorted by the bruises that stained her body. He averted his eyes away from the oxygen mask, tubes, and machines that he knew to be sustaining her through the pain brought on by the nightmarish hell she'd endured. As he approached for a closer look, Elliot turned toward him slowly. Taking in his bloodshot eyes, Cragen suddenly realized that in all the years…despite the horrors they saw day in and out, he had only seen Elliot shed tears one other time. Ironically, it had started at Maloney's as well as Elliot had attempted to drown out a case that reminded him of a time his anger had made him lash out at an unsuspecting Maureen. Cragen thought back to Elliot's broken confession that night and remembered taking his keys in hand to drive him home. He had known what his detective needed on that day, but he realized he had no idea how to help him now. Now completely sober, it was painfully obvious that Elliot was fighting back his emotions.

Behind the glimmer of anguish blazed a deep, smoldering fire. "I'm going to kill the son of a bitch that did this to her."

The words brought him crashing back to reality. "Elliot, do you think she'd be better off if you ended up locked away someplace? She needs you now more than she's ever needed you before. So pull yourself together for her." Somehow as he spoke, he found himself trying to convince himself of the truth behind his words. As much as he firmly believed that roughing up a suspect was detrimental in every sense of the word, there was nothing he wanted more than to get his hands on the man that had put Olivia here.

"Look at her captain, look at what he did to her. What if she doesn't wake up again?" He couldn't bare to ask the other questions on his mind. What if she was too traumatized to go back to work? What if he had lost his partner?

As if responding to his unspoken plea, Olivia's eyes fluttered open slowly. Her body ached all over. She tried to sit up, but something weighed her down, keeping her pinned to the bed. Whose bed? Her eyes flew open, and her hands shot up in a defensive stance as if to protect herself.

At her reaction, Elliot knew that the absolute shock on his own face was mirrored in his captain's eyes. "Liv, it's okay. You're safe now." His words were instantly soft, gentle.

She let her arms fall to her side cautiously at the sound of the familiar voice. With great effort, she drew herself up to a sitting position. Even in the dim room, the sun shone brightly on her face, a stark comparison to the darkness that had surrounded her for so long. Her eyes darted back and forth as she surveyed her surroundings wildly. A slender hand reached out and pushed the oxygen mask back away from her mouth so she could speak. "Elliot…Don." The voice that called out was muted, tentative, and unlike any they had ever heard.

"Liv, it's okay. He can't hurt you anymore." Elliot reached for her hand to comfort her. She flinched violently, and he felt as if someone had just punched him in the gut. "Oh, God… Liv, I'm sorry."

She saw Cragen shift slightly, and he took a step forward cautiously. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been hit with a ton of bricks," she groaned quietly. Olivia paused for a moment. "Something tells me that I'm probably not the only one. You look like you've been through hell."

A sad smile crossed over Cragen's face. "Always trying to take care of everybody else."

"Yeah, well somebody has to look out for you two." She laid back again, deep in thought. "I…I didn't do so well on taking care of myself."

Elliot was the first to respond. "What do you remember?"

She knew that tone. She had heard it many times before. It was the same tone he always took when he reached out to a _victim_. Her throat tightened, and she swallowed hard. "I…I don't know what happened."

"It's okay. Just tell us what you do remember," Elliot encouraged her tenderly.

A guarded look crossed over her face, and she bit her bottom lip. "I don't know," she repeated vehemently. Olivia tore her eyes away from Elliot's burning gaze and shifted. "Please go," she whispered softly. Olivia wasn't ready to face them, wasn't ready to face their probing questions and what it meant for her. The two men exchanged looks, neither one wanting to leave her, but unsure of whether their presence or absence would cause her more pain. She didn't want to think about it. She closed her eyes and let herself slip back into the merciful darkness.

* * *

A rapid succession of outbursts somehow tore through his reverie and gradually increased in volume. Cragen didn't bother to listen to the message coming across the radio as it silently melted away just as swiftly as it had come. His eyes swept across the room, surveying the hustle and bustle surrounding him. From behind him, he heard fleeting laughter followed by the slamming of a locker door. Bits and pieces of conversation drifted in and out, and he realized that only in their world had time come to a sudden, crashing halt. To everyone else, it was just another Wednesday morning.

"Don…Don?"

Slowly, Cragen realized that someone was calling his name. He tore his eyes away from the scene before him and searched for the voice reaching out to him. "Casey."

"Don, where are we with Liv?" Casey was pacing back and forth. "And why haven't you called me?"

He sighed and shook his head. All of the years of fighting against every injustice suddenly seemed to weigh down every bone in his body. He retreated back into his office and collapsed in his chair. He didn't have to look to know that she had followed him. "Without a complaining witness, we're not getting very far," he replied simply.

Casey's head snapped up. "What do you mean…without a complaining witness? I thought Olivia woke up two days ago. Haven't you gotten a statement from her yet?"

"She woke up," he confirmed cautiously, "But Casey…she's not ready to talk about it. Believe me, Elliot and I have tried."

"Well, then you have to make her talk. This is Liv. She knows how important it is that we get a statement, and she knows that we need it now. Why is she stone-walling us?"

"Do you think I would be standing here if I knew the answer to that? Casey, she won't even let Elliot anywhere near her. I have no idea what this bastard did to her, and she won't let any of us close enough to try to find out."

Casey opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. It didn't matter. A loud voice echoed behind her, filling the strained silence. "Don." Cragen rose to his feet and met the eyes of his commanding officer. He nodded curtly.

Casey didn't even bother to acknowledge the Chief of D's. "I'm going to go do my job. You do yours." She whirled around, sensing she was getting nowhere with this newfound interruption. "Let me know when you get something," she called out over her shoulder. The door swung shut behind her, and the silence that filled the room was deafening.

"How are you holding up?" The words were tainted with concern and authority rolled up in one.

"I'd be a hell of a lot better if I knew what was going on," Cragen returned, his words guarded.

"Don, I know how much you care about the detectives under your command, and you're one hell of a captain. But are you sure you're objective enough to handle this case?"

"With all due respect, sir, I'm handling it just fine," he replied brusquely.

"Is it true that you haven't gotten a statement yet from Olivia?"

Cragen hesitated slightly. "She's traumatized. God only knows what she's been through. We'll get a statement, she just needs time."

"Don, Olivia has been with this unit for a long time. She knows how important time is right now."

"What's your point?"

"Do you have Elliot working her case?"

"He's my best detective. I'm not pulling him out on this one. I'll keep an eye on him," Cragen responded quickly.

"You're missing the point, Don. Has it occurred to you that Olivia might have known her attacker?"

"Of course it's occurred to me," he snapped. Cragen froze instantly as the words finally hit him. "What are you saying?"

"Olivia is not one to just let her guard down to a complete stranger, and she sure as hell has shown her ability to fight back when she was. I'm just making sure you're considering all the options here."

When he spoke, Cragen's words were terse. "You want to stop beating around the bush and tell me what this is all about?"

"Who was with you when you questioned Olivia?"

"Elliot." Cragen fought for the words to justify what to him had seemed like second nature. "She knows him, she trusts him." He found himself stumbling over the words. Of course Elliot would be the one to go with him to question Olivia. Who else would he trust more?

"Don, Elliot was the last person to be seen with her before she disappeared. When she woke up to see him, she reacted violently and completely shut down."

Cragen turned slowly, processing the implication behind the chief's words. "You think Elliot brutally attacked, kidnapped, and raped his partner?" His words were edged with anger and sarcasm.

"Have you ruled him out?"

"There's no need to rule him out. Elliot would never attack Olivia or anyone else for that matter," Cragen emphasized vehemently.

"Don, Olivia isn't married, she has no family, and even I know that this job is her life. She would have only let her guard down to someone she trusts. It's our job to question those closest to the victim. Now, what kind of relationship do they have?"

"Their relationship is…it's complicated." Cragen shook his head. "But I can assure you he would never raise a hand to her. Olivia is all Elliot has right now. What possible motive would he have to attack her?"

"He's going through a divorce from his wife, he's lost custody of his children. Then the one person left in his life turns around and walks out on him. He's angry, and he's lashing out. Don, you've seen it happen a hundred times from people you would have never expected to snap."

"Olivia left because they needed some distance," Cragen explained. "She came back, and they're working through their issues, but if you even think that…"

"Don, I'm not saying he's guilty." The chief's voice softened. "But any half decent defense attorney can argue my point. This one has to be done completely by the books."

"What do you want from me?"

"Get Olivia to talk, and make damned sure that when you do, Elliot is nowhere near that room. You want proof that he's innocent--she's the only one who can give that to you."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

* * *

"Don?" George Huang looked up in surprise as Cragen tentatively slipped into his office, closing the door behind him. Cragen hesitated, his eyes scanning the room before finally settling on the chair in front of Huang's desk. He took a seat, suddenly wondering why he was here in the first place.

As if sensing his reluctance to talk, Huang spoke first. "I heard about what happened at the hospital."

Cragen finally met his eyes. "I have no idea how to help her. She won't even talk to us."

"How does that make you feel?"

"Don't try to shrink me," Cragen retorted bitterly. He sighed. "I'm sorry, it's just…right now I don't need that. I need to know how to help her, how to get her to talk."

"I don't think she knows who she can trust right now," George acknowledged setting down the file in his hand. "She's afraid to talk."

"What do you mean?" Cragen looked taken aback. "How can she not trust us?"

"Olivia wants to report what happened. Every fiber in her being wants to catch this guy, and she knows that in order to do that, she has to tell someone what happened. But right now, you're too close to her. Elliot's too close to her. She needs someone who won't judge her for what she did or didn't do, and my guess is she doesn't see that in you, in any of you."

"Will she talk to you?" Cragen pleaded, his voice ringing with a desperation he had never heard before.

George met his eyes, knowing the words he wanted to hear, but unable to give them to him. "No," he sighed. "She needs someone outside of this office who can get through to her, someone who can approach her as a friend, but who has the sense of mind to know what to say or ask."

"What about Casey?"

Huang shook his head quickly. "Casey is too involved in this investigation, and she knows that. Casey wants it too much. It will just trigger her defensive mechanisms. Olivia needs someone more objective than that. It has to be someone she knows, but who has enough distance that she feels safe to talk."

* * *

"Olivia?" The gentle voice that called out was cheery, but hesitant.

Olivia eyes flew open, every muscle in her body taut with tension. As she pinpointed the now familiar voice, she let herself ease back into her pillow. She rolled over slowly and groaned. "Sara, I really don't want more drugs. I'm fine."

The woman chuckled quietly and tucked back the strawberry blond tendrils that escaped from behind her ear. "Don't worry, I'm not going to keep bugging you about the painkillers. I'm nearing the end of my shift anyway so I'll leave that to the night nurse." Her eyes twinkled.

"Then what do you want?" Olivia allowed her voice to soften slightly.

"You have company."

"Well, tell the guys that I don't want to…" She stopped, catching sight of the figure who stepped through the door. "Jeffries?"

"I'll leave you two ladies alone." Without another word, the nurse slipped out of the room before Olivia could protest further.

"Hey, I heard you had a run in with some creep. I hope you gave him a real kick in the ass for me?"

The beginning of a smile crossed over Olivia's face and Jeffries took that as her cue to take a seat. "Good to see you too. How's life over at Vice?"

Jeffries shrugged. "It's different," she answered cautiously. "My partner doesn't think the world is out to get him, but then again, where's the fun in that?" Olivia started to laugh, but her quiet chuckle turned into a gasp at the stabbing pain in her chest.

"Easy there," Jeffries commented, eyeing the grimace of pain that swept over her face.

"So besides missing Munch's conspiracy theories, how do you like it?" Olivia's voice, although light-hearted had a seriousness to it that cut through the room like a knife.

"I get a hell of a lot more exercise. As soon as anyone finds out I'm a cop, they take off running, but I learned how to deal with someone trying to run from the truth a long time ago."

Olivia nodded slowly, fully aware of the underlying words. "Do you miss it?"

"There's no victim to tear your heart out. And for the first time in a long time, I go home at night when my shift is over, and I'm actually able to sleep," she mused. She was silent for a long time, contemplating her next words carefully. "But there's also something to be said for knowing that what you do every day makes a difference in someone's life, that even though you can't change what happened to them, you can help them to deal with it, to move on with their life." Jeffries looked straight into Olivia's eyes. "You can help bring justice to the world if only you can get them to trust you with the truth."

Olivia looked away, not quite sure how to respond.

"Olivia, what are you afraid of?"

She turned back slowly, and their eyes met for a long time. When Olivia finally spoke, her words were barely above a whisper. "He's taken everything else away from me. I can't let him take my job too."

"Olivia." Jeffries leaned closer, taking her hand. "He only takes away what you let him take away. Now, I know you, and you are _not _a victim. Don't let him turn you into one. Don't go down without a fight. Tell me what you remember."

_Tell me what you remember_. Olivia's eyes were panicked. _You don't understand_, she wanted to scream out. The beginning of a sob caught in her throat. How could she not remember? She had been trained to recognize the details, trained to sense what others would never pick up on. She had walked countless victims through their statements. So why did her mind, her body stubbornly insist on blocking it out?

"Olivia, talk to me, please," Jeffries pleaded.

A solitary tear slowly traced a path down her cheek before she slammed her eyes closed to fight back the rest. "I can't," she admitted softly.

_She could see his eyes widening in satisfaction, could see the smirk that spread across his face as she realized how incredibly vulnerable she was to him. Olivia had long since perfected the art of hiding from others. Every day she hid behind an exterior that not even the toughest suspect could penetrate, behind a shield that portrayed her years of hard work and achievement, behind the gun that had become an indefinite fixture on her right hip. But suddenly, she was stripped of all of that and more. Her badge was gone, her gun was gone, even her clothes. There was nothing left but a shattered shell that had once been Detective Olivia Benson. And she had no idea how it had happened._

"Olivia, please."

Olivia's eyes flew open, blocking out the image that assaulted her. She spoke slowly, searching for a way to explain the lapse in her memory. "I can't remember," she stammered, her words filled with guilt and an emotion she had fought for years to strip from every victim she had encountered…shame.

"I…I don't know how I got there," she elaborated quietly. "I just remember waking up and realizing I was handcuffed to a bed."

"That's okay, Olivia," Jeffries encouraged her softly. "Do you know where you were?"

She shook her head side to side.

_It was dark, the only light filtering in from between the slats of a boarded up window, the only sounds--a faint humming, and of course the sound she dreaded the most, of soft footsteps approaching from behind her._

Olivia fought to steady her words. "It was dark and quiet, maybe a basement."

_With textured concrete walls that dripped with condensation on one side and did nothing to muffle her cries, her screams. With wooden beams and electrical cables running overhead that melted away as she fought him off. _

"Olivia, you're doing great." Jeffries watched her with a helplessness she couldn't control. She took a deep breath, dreading the reaction to the words she knew she had to ask. "Were you alone?"

Olivia's shoulders stiffened instantaneously. "No, he was standing over me, and I couldn't get away."

_He had towered above her, a thick, cheap cologne mixed with sweat her only indication of his presence. She could still see his eyes--cold, calculating, and something else…satisfaction churning in their icy depths._

Olivia realized that Jeffries was waiting for her to continue. She ducked her head slightly. "My clothes, they were gone, but I couldn't remember what had happened to them." Tears sprang to her eyes.

Jeffries could hear her trying to decide how much to elaborate and swallowed hard. "It's okay, Olivia. I know. Elliot told me how he found you."

_Elliot told me how he found you. _Olivia froze. "What do you mean…how Elliot found me?"

Jeffries stared back at her, surprised. "You didn't know? Olivia, Elliot pulled you out of his apartment." The stricken, shocked look on Olivia's face was all the answer she needed. Jeffries cursed to herself inwardly as she saw her retreat.

"I…I can't do this anymore." Olivia pulled her hand free and started to turn away.

"Olivia? Olivia, you have to talk to me," Jeffries pressed.

"No, I _don't_ have to talk to anyone. I'm fine. Nothing happened," she snapped.

"Olivia, do you know who did this to you?"

"Please, just go away." Olivia sat up and struggled to swing her legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the stabbing pain that assaulted her from every direction. The questions were swirling around her, tearing her apart, forcing her to relive every moment of terror. She swallowed hard. She had tried to convince herself that she could just hide from it, that as long as she didn't talk, it could be like her entire childhood. If she kept to herself, no one would ever know the truth. As long as she didn't say it out loud, it was as if it didn't exist. But Elliot had seen her. He had seen her barely dressed, bruised, and broken--crumpled on his floor like a _victim_. She couldn't hide from that.

"Olivia, was it Elliot?"

She stopped dead in her tracks and turned back to Jeffries incredulously. "You think Elliot did this to me?" she demanded angrily. Her fists clenched instinctively. If it weren't for the pain that coursed through her body, Olivia would have lashed out at her. "Elliot would never do this to me!" Her retort was sharp and biting.

"Then talk to me," Jeffries pleaded with her. "Because Olivia, that's what people are going to say if you don't tell me the truth."

Olivia whipped her head around, her body poised at the edge of the bed, every muscle in her body trembling with exertion. With a vigor her body couldn't seem to muster, her eyes flashed daggers, challenging the woman who stood before her to question her partner's dedication again. When their eyes met, Olivia let herself melt back into the bed in resignation as she realized that all the walls she had painstakingly carved around her shattered core were now imprisoning the one man who wanted nothing more than to protect her. "It wasn't Elliot," she acknowledged quietly. "I just didn't want him to think I couldn't protect myself."

"Olivia, he knows that." Jeffries pulled herself closer in order to meet her at eye level. "This isn't your fault."

"You don't understand." The tears trickling down her face blurred her vision, but did nothing to erase the words that haunted her. _I can't do this anymore. I can't keep looking over my shoulder making sure you're okay…I need to know that you can do your job without waiting for me to come to the rescue._

"A couple months ago Elliot and I were working a case. The perp attacked me with a knife, and a boy died because Elliot tried to save me. Monique, the things he said…" she trailed off, biting her lip. "He was right." She laughed mirthlessly. "I can't even protect myself. How the hell am I supposed to protect him?"

Jeffries was silent for a long time, the full weight of her words sinking in. Olivia was afraid of losing her job, of losing her partner, and with a bitterness that still stung five years later, Jeffries knew why. "Olivia, you know that he didn't mean that."

"I thought I did, but now I'm not so sure."

"Olivia, what happened that day is not your fault, and what happened to you now isn't either. But you do have the power to stop it from happening to someone else. We can't do anything to help if you don't tell us what happened." As much as she tried to hold them back, Jeffries could feel herself fighting back her own tears. The eyes that stared back at her were filled with something that Jeffries had hoped to never see again. They were haunted--filled with despair, fear, and above all regret.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

* * *

Elliot tapped a pen on his desk impatiently. A voice echoed out from behind him. "Where are we with the Carlton case?"

He pushed aside the file in front of him, his eyes seeking out the source of the voice. "Captain, we're just spinning our wheels here on this one." Spinning seemed to be the understatement of the year. Drowning was more like it. Elliot knew it wasn't fair to his captain, but for the first time in his career, he didn't care. He didn't want to be sitting at his desk hashing out the Carlton case. He wanted, no, he _needed_ to be sitting at Mercy General Hospital making sure his partner was okay. The only problem was, his partner didn't want anything to do with him.

As if sensing the rising tension in the room, Fin crossed over to where Cragen stood. "It's lookin' like she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time," he pointed out.

Cragen eyed his two remaining detectives. "So we still think the Carlton case is connected with Olivia. Any luck with recent parolees?"

Elliot dropped his pen, cracking his knuckles and reclining back in his chair. "We've interviewed a few of them, but no one that looks good for this. Maybe we're going about this all wrong."

Fin nodded in agreement. "We've been thinkin' Olivia's the target the whole time, but why dump her at Elliot's doorstep? That can't be a coincidence."

"Yeah, and how the hell did he know where I live?"

"Okay, so maybe Olivia's not the real target," Cragen mused, staring up at the web of photos on the board. "What if this guy is really after Elliot? He goes after Olivia to try to send him a message." Cragen scanned his eyes from one photo to the next, hoping against all odds that something new would jump out to him.

"Ok, but why go after my partner? If this guy wants to hurt me so bad, why her? Why not me? Why not my family?" Elliot interrupted, the frustration in his voice rising.

"This guy's a rapist, not a pedophile. Maybe he's not into kids," Fin suggested. He glanced over at Elliot, knowing that he was walking a fine line. Elliot was ready to snap at any moment, and he knew none of them were prepared for what would happen if he did. There was only one person who could soothe him when he got like that.

"Elliot, what about your wife?" Cragen ventured slowly. "The divorce is still pending, right?"

Elliot nodded, not quite sure where he was going with this. "Yeah, not a matter of public record."

Fin closed his eyes for a brief second, hoping that his next words wouldn't send him teetering over the edge. "So what if he goes after Kathy, finds out you're getting a divorce, and goes for Olivia instead?"

There was absolute silence as they each considered the possibility. When he finally spoke, Elliot's voice was flat and emotionless. "All right." He scooped up his jacket from the back of his chair and grabbed his phone. "I'll talk to Kathy."

* * *

"I'm sorry." The tentative voice that permeated the silence was so quiet Jeffries leaned closer to hear it.

When she did, she squeezed her eyes shut to force back the wave of emotion that hit her. The fact that Olivia felt the need to apologize tore at her heart.

"Olivia, you have nothing to be sorry about. What happened isn't your fault," she reminded her gently.

"I know that," Olivia admitted quietly. "But it is my fault if I let it happen to someone else." Jeffries heard the catch in her voice. She swallowed hard and remained silent. She knew now was the time to tell her, but she couldn't bear to do it. She couldn't bear to tell Olivia that it was already too late for someone else.

When their eyes finally met, Jeffries could see a new determination behind them. She hesitated. "Olivia, is it okay if…" She didn't have to finish. Olivia nodded her consent. Cautiously, Munch stepped out of the shadows and began to advance toward her slowly.

"Hey." His voice was soft and tender. "I'm sorry I haven't been here. The doctors wouldn't let me near you until this virus cleared out of my system." As he approached her bedside, he saw the panic in her eyes and realized it was directed at him. He froze mid stride. Quietly, he observed her, noting every bruise, every cut that colored her body. He had heard the doctor's reports, but he still wasn't prepared for what he saw.

As if to counter her own body language, Olivia smiled. "It's okay. I won't break."

Munch took two cautious steps forward and hovered over a chair for a moment. "Olivia, if you want me to leave at any time, just…"

"No, it's okay," she interrupted sharply. Her eyes darted back and forth between the two of them, as if questioning where to begin. With a suspect, she always knew when to initiate an interrogation. With a victim, she always knew how to approach them. But suddenly, Olivia had no idea where to start.

"What do you remember next?" Munch encouraged her gently, silently letting her know what she had already suspected. She didn't need to repeat herself--he had already heard.

Olivia blinked hard, fighting back the tears she refused to allow escape. When she spoke, her voice was tentative. "My arms were pinned over my head. They were cuffed to the bedpost, and I thought that I might be able to bust off one end of the rail. But I couldn't do it." Her fingers instinctively traced the deep purple bruises and cuts on her wrists.

God, she hated feeling so damn helpless. Olivia forced herself to harden her words, hoping that the edge behind them may somehow transform the words into something more recognizable, something less _passive_. "I didn't hear him, but he must have been watching me try. When I finally gave up, I heard him come up behind me."

"Can you describe him?" Munch asked gently.

_He was lying next to her before she even realized he was there, his body pressing up against hers. His skin was cool to the touch, but at the same time, Olivia felt it searing an impression in her body that could never be erased._

Olivia blinked hard to erase the image. "He was a white male, maybe mid thirties with dark brown hair and blue eyes. He was tall--a little over six foot, just over two hundred pounds."

"That's good," Jeffries encouraged her gently. "What else?"

_She was pinned up against the headboard with nowhere to go. His right arm held her hands in place as his left hand closed around her throat, forcing her head to turn toward him. As he pulled her closer, she could see the muscles in his arm flexing with exertion. A flash of color protruding from beneath a white cotton t-shirt caught her attention. The image faded away, and her screams were muffled as he pressed his lips to hers._

Olivia's chest tightened as she fought for a breath. "Olivia, lay back down." Jeffries' voice was stern, and she reached over gently and helped her lower her body back. As she eased back into the pillows, Olivia was finally able to draw in a shaky breath. "It's okay, sweetie," Jeffries whispered. "You broke a couple of ribs in the attack. If you try to sit up too much, it makes it harder to breathe."

Olivia felt the wave of panic subside slowly as the words sank in. Her face flushed slightly. "I'm sorry," she repeated, hanging her head. She took a deep breath, determined to continue. "He had a tattoo on his left arm. It was a blue skull in the center of a red star."

Munch jotted down a note in his notebook. "Did you notice anything else that was different about him?"

"He had a scar on his right hand." Olivia turned toward them, silently pleading with them to move on, to erase the image ingrained in her head.

Jeffries took the hint. "Okay. Can you tell us what happened next?"

_A sharp pain erupted from her wrists as her feet pushed against him. His chest was a solid mass of muscle, and he staggered back just long enough for her to escape his burning touch. Pure adrenaline coursed through her veins, and she seized the temporary reprieve to push back away from him. It wasn't until she felt the cold metal bar digging into her spine that she realized she had nowhere else to go._

"He tried to touch me, and I fought against him. That's when he pulled out the knife."

_The knife. It had come out of nowhere, the blade pressing against her skin. She was afraid to breathe. Her lungs strained for oxygen. When she could hold it no more, she finally drew in a shaky breath. As she did, she felt the blade digging into her throat, felt the trickle of blood. She didn't even recognize the sound that escaped from her lips._

Munch was scrawling illegibly in his notebook when he heard the soft whimper. He was frozen in place--unable to speak, unable to move. Olivia was unrelenting. She was resilient. She confronted her past day after day with a vigor that each of them acknowledged, but never really understood. She relied on an intuition and an inner strength that could unnerve even the most unsuspecting perp, but at the same time inspire a victim to trust her with the most intimate details of their attack. She was tough. She was strong. She was..._vulnerable_. In a mere couple of days, the man who had attacked her had managed to do what a lifetime of hurt, pain, and utter depravity had failed to do. He had shattered her spirit, stripped her of her confidence. He had broken her.

Jeffries was the first to recover. "Olivia, it's okay. He can't hurt you anymore."

"He attacked me," Olivia whispered. "When I tried to get out from underneath him, he trapped me up against the headboard." Her voice changed, her words tinted with anger and resentment. "No matter which way I twisted, I couldn't get away. He kept hitting me and kicking me." Even as she fought for control, she could hear her voice breaking, rising to a feverish pitch as anguish twisted with anger. "He started stabbing me, and I turned my back to try to protect myself. I…I begged him to stop, and finally he did."

Olivia dropped her head to hide the expression on her face, and Munch felt his eyes burning. He wanted to protect her, wanted so much to take away her pain. He wanted to tell her that she didn't have to relive it, but he knew he couldn't.

Her shoulders hunched forward, dejectedly. "When he stopped, I realized what he was doing. I heard him pull his pants down." She raised her face to meet their questioning eyes and fought to control the tremble in her lower lip. "I kept kicking and screaming. I tried so damn hard to get away from him, but I didn't have anywhere to go."

She blinked hard, fighting back the tears that burned behind her eyelids. When she spoke again, her voice was barely above a whisper. "He wrapped his hands around my neck and forced me to kiss him. I begged him to leave me alone, and all he did was laugh at me." She let out a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

Jeffries stared into her haunted eyes, searching for a truth she didn't want to hear. "Olivia, did he rape you?"

Olivia's eyes dropped ever so slightly as she drew in a shaky breath. "I didn't realize…" She stopped, and her lips parted slightly as she swallowed the knot in her throat. Then silently, she nodded. "I didn't know until I felt him push inside me that it wasn't the first time."

* * *

"Elliot, what are you doing here?" The door swung open, and Kathy stood in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest. "The kids aren't even home."

"I'm not here for the kids right now. Kathy, I know this isn't a good time, but we need to talk."

She pushed the door open further and silently motioned for him to come in. Elliot hesitated as he stepped through the door. His eyes scanned the living room, and he felt a knot in his throat. He hadn't been inside the house in months. He could instantly see the changes--small, subtle changes to the décor that seemed to scream out to him that she was moving on in her own life, erasing the memory of the one they had once shared.

"Talking is not one of your strong points, Elliot. What's this about?"

For the first time, he hesitated. He hadn't thought about what to say to her when he got here. He had only known that he needed to know the truth, needed to know why it was Olivia in that hospital room. "Look, Kathy. Have you…" He cleared his throat. "Have you been seeing anyone?"

Her eyes dropped instantly, and she started to rise to her feet. "Elliot, I don't want to talk about this right now."

"Kathy, I need to know." Elliot's voice had a certain desperation to it that stopped her in her tracks. "Have you been seeing anyone? Have you had any new friends, maybe anyone you don't recognize who has been around recently?"

"Elliot, what's all this about?" Kathy stared back at him, the confusion on her face evident.

"Olivia was attacked the other night," he blurted out. He heard the sharp intake of breath, but somehow it didn't register. His mind was reeling, turning over the events from the past few days.

"Elliot, I'm sorry. Is she okay?"

"No, Kathy, she's not okay. The bastard kidnapped her, raped her, and left her to die after setting fire to my apartment. She's not fucking okay!" He turned abruptly, suddenly not even sure when he had risen to his feet, and he allowed himself to drop back on the couch, his head in his hands and the tears that he refused to acknowledge burning behind his eyelids. He let out a sound that vaguely resembled laughter. "I don't know what I'm doing here."

"Elliot, wait." Kathy hesitated, not sure what to say, not quite sure what to make of his outburst. She had seen him lose his temper more times than she could count. She had seen him hurt and angry, but she had never seen him like this. With a trace of bitterness, she wondered if he would have felt the same way if something had happened to her. She let out a long, low breath. "What can I do to help?"

"Just talk to me, Kathy. Tell me the truth. We think he went after Olivia to get to me."

Kathy's head snapped up. "The kids…Elliot, I have to…" She stumbled to her feet.

"Kathy, the kids are fine." She froze as she took in his words slowly. "Fin picked them up from school an hour ago. They're okay," he reassured her. "But I need you to talk to me now."

She nodded dully, carefully considering her next words. "I haven't seen anyone around that I don't recognize, but I…I did go out on a date with this guy I met at the hospital. Elliot, it was one date. We didn't click, and I haven't seen him since."

Elliot's head snapped up. His voice took on a new urgency. "Kathy, think hard. Did you ever mention Olivia to him?"

She averted her eyes away from his and drew in a long, deep breath. "Yeah."

"What did you say?" His words were sharp, his eyes widening in horror.

"Elliot, I'm sorry. I…I told him that things didn't work out between us." Her words softened. "I told him that I felt like I could never come close to having the type of relationship you shared with Olivia." Her words were barely above a whisper as she realized the implication behind her words. "Oh, God..."

Elliot crossed over to her and took her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. "Kathy, what was his name?"

"Roger." She sighed. "Roger Hammond."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

* * *

A sharp rap at the door startled Cragen and he dropped the file in his hands. Without hesitation, the door swung open, and Fin stood there silently. "Captain, where's Elliot?"

Cragen looked into the eyes of the man who stood before him, trying to decide if there was any way around answering the question. They were a family. No matter what else happened, they were a family. They didn't just solve their cases and go home at the end of their shift. They lived and breathed for each case, and when it was over, they silently melted away into the shadows of the precinct.

_Elliot's home with Kathy and the kids. Munch is out somewhere. Jeffries and Cassidy, we live here. We just disappear into the night…_

He had laughed with her then, acknowledging the truth behind her words. The family had changed since then, but her words still rang true. A wry smile played at the corner of his lips--they may be the most dysfunctional family in the world, but they were still a family. He watched over each of the detectives under his command as if they were his children. They had filled the void in his life that Marge had left.

Cragen had been in this unit for far too long, they all had. Their utter contempt for pysch services was born out of an intense fear that they might be forced to leave. None of them could ever acknowledge how deeply each case hit them, or how twisted the world had become in the years since they had joined SVU. There were times when it became too much, when they would finally voice the question that haunted them all. The night he had spent with Olivia after the Bennett case had been one of those nights--a night of reflection while Olivia had nursed a glass of vodka, desperately seeking an answer that none of them could provide.

But most of the time, they leaned on one another, never speaking a word, but still communicating with their eyes what no words could ever truly describe. Without touching, without speaking, they silently gave their partners the strength to face what no other cop in the NYPD ever could. They hated their jobs, but they hated the violence and destruction to the lives of the victims even more. And despite everything they saw, they knew that they were the select few who could survive it day after day.

"Captain, why is Tucker in there with Elliot?"

Cragen heard the question, but he couldn't find the words to respond. He stared out the two way glass window in his office, silently watching the last thread holding the unit together unravel before his very eyes.

* * *

"Where were you on Friday night, Detective?"

Elliot stared across the table at the snide, contemptuous smile of a man he both hated and feared. "With my partner, Detective Benson. We got off around eight and went out for drinks."

Tucker advanced toward the table slowly. "And what did you do after you left?"

Elliot hesitated before answering. "I went home to my apartment until I was called in on the Carlton case."

"Alone?" Tucker suggested, a tiny smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"Yeah, alone," Elliot repeated defensively. "Why the hell does it matter where I was?"

"Because you didn't go home alone." Tucker tossed a file on the table in front of him. Loose photos began to spill out.

"What the hell is this?" Elliot flipped open the file and stared at the photo in front of him, the color draining from his face.

"Why don't you tell me, Detective."

Elliot was frozen in place, the image burned into his memory long before Tucker scooped them up again.

One by one he tossed them on the table. "What's the matter, Detective? Can't stand the sight of your own work?"

"Where the hell did you get these?" Elliot whispered, finally bringing himself to look down at the image in front of him.

When everything in the world fell apart, when he didn't think that he could make it through another day, he looked to her. Her eyes drew him in--silently reassuring him, encouraging him, and letting him know that he wasn't alone. But Elliot didn't recognize the eyes that stared back at him now. They were filled with terror and a pain that he understood all too well.

A satisfied smirk on his face, Tucker leaned forward on the table to meet Elliot at eye level. "We got them from your apartment," he sneered.

* * *

"Can I talk to you for a minute?"

The pen in Huang's hand froze mid sentence. He looked up slowly, trying not to show his surprise. "Casey, come on in."

She crossed the threshold quickly before she could lose her nerve and then hesitated. Casey averted her eyes away from him and found herself staring out the window behind his desk. "It's a beautiful view."

"Yes, it is," he agreed. His eyes followed her, analyzing her movement. "But you didn't come here to talk about the view."

The expression on her face softened. "No, you're right." He gestured for her to have a seat across from him. She accepted it, grateful for the time it gave her to formulate her thoughts into words. Casey had always prided herself on her ability to take bits and pieces of information and spin them into a web of questions that captured the essence of realism and truth. Yet the questions swirling around her now seemed to be spiraling out of control.

She took a deep breath and plunged forward. "How bad is this? I mean…" She stopped, chewing on her lower lip thoughtfully. "Olivia is strong, right. She can beat this?" Her voice didn't falter, but the expression on her face gave away the insecurity she was desperately trying to mask.

Huang nodded in agreement. "Yes, she is strong. But Casey, that doesn't mean this isn't going to affect her. Olivia's strength is also going to be her downfall because she's not going to let anyone close to her. She wants to pretend that she can handle what happened on her own."

"I want to pretend that she can handle what happened to her on her own," Casey admitted quietly. She exhaled slowly. "I want to believe that she can just get right back up and give us a statement that will help us nail his ass to the wall." She looked away, her voice softening. "The only way that I can do that is by pretending that it's somebody else. If I let myself accept the fact that he was able to break her, then it means accepting the fact that none of us are safe, and I…" She stopped and drew in a long breath. "I can't take that, George."

He silently watched her crumble, offering her the space he knew she needed. "Casey, none of us want to accept what happened to her. But the truth is, she's just like every other victim that's walked through this door. The only difference is she has more to lose because in her eyes, she's struggling not just to keep it together, but also to keep her job."

Casey's head snapped up. "Is her job at risk?"

"She thinks it is, and as long as that fear is there, she's going to continue fighting all of us. Olivia's job has given her a reason for her entire existence, and the threat of losing that is more than she's prepared to handle."

* * *

_We got them from your apartment._

The words sank in slowly, weighing down every muscle in his body. Elliot blinked hard. This couldn't be happening. He had to be dreaming. There was no way that anyone could possibly think that he could attack his partner, that he could attack Olivia. "You're wrong." Elliot's voice was barely above a whisper.

"Oh, really," Tucker answered sarcastically. He slid into the seat across from Elliot. "You were the last person to be seen alone with her. She's afraid to be in the same room with you and refuses to talk about what happened with anyone from the squad." Tucker chuckled softly. "Then she miraculously turns up on _your_ doorstep." He paused dramatically, reveling in the shocked silence before leaning in for the kill. "Oh, yeah, and of course, you just happen to have photos of her _during_ her attack in _your _apartment."

"I would _never_ hurt her." Elliot's knuckles were white as he gripped the edge of the table as if his life depended on it. "I was…here the whole time. How the hell could I have attacked her?"

Tucker folded his hands in front of him, dragging out the silence before he finally spoke. "Here's what I think. You go out for a drink. She tells you she's leaving again. You both start to fight, and then you leave. She goes off with someone else, and you follow her home to confront her. You tell her you need to talk and take her to your apartment where you attack her and leave her chained up to your radiator while you go establish an alibi."

"No, you're wrong," Elliot insisted, desperately wracking his brain for the words to explain what he could barely comprehend through the shock. "I was…I was with Cragen when the fire started."

"No," Tucker sneered, his words dripping with sarcasm. "You weren't. The fire was started with an accelerant attached to a time-delayed toy balloon filled with gas. You could have set it up during the two hours that you mysteriously disappeared earlier that evening."

Elliot opened his mouth to speak, but no words escaped. Where the hell had he gone for two hours that night? The events of the last few days were a blur. He could barely remember what day it was, let alone account for every movement of his during that time.

Tucker leaned toward him, lifting a single eyebrow. "You're officially suspended pending further investigation." His voice was cold with no trace of remorse. "Give me your gun and shield, Detective."

Elliot stared straight ahead. He heard the words, but they didn't register. He was beyond anger, beyond rage…he was completely numb. His fingers closed around his shield, and he watched it fall on the table. His right hand reached for the holster on his belt. He turned his Glock over in his hand and hesitated for what seemed like an eternity before he felt strong hands forcing it from his grasp.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

* * *

The squad room was eerily quiet when Munch strode through the double doorway. His eyes scanned the room, searching for some sign of life. It was just as well. He wasn't ready to face anyone else. Wearily, he collapsed in his chair, tossing his notebook on the desk in front of him. He watched it fall open to a page full of notes he had jotted down, but knew he would never need to consult. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't erase the words from his memory. As if operating on instinct, he reached for the keyboard. As his fingers flew over the keys, he felt each one punctuating the silence, screaming out a reality he wasn't ready to face. _No_, he corrected himself silently. _None of them were ready to face._

He didn't know how long it had been when he finally finished. He was frozen in that moment, willing all time to be suspended until he could finally find some way to make sense of it all. He was desperately seeking to understand what none of them ever could. After another couple of keystrokes, he heard the printer whirring to life. Tentatively, he crossed over and pulled the sixty-one from the printer.

Staring back at the page blurring before his eyes, he hesitated. _This couldn't be happening. _For a brief moment, he considered balling it up and tossing it in the trash, or better yet, watching as the shredder erased every semblance of its existence. But nothing could erase the reality of what had happened. Nothing could erase the fact that Olivia had become the one thing she had fought like hell to avoid her entire life…a victim.

His footsteps were heavy as he approached the door to Cragen's office. The blinds were drawn, and there was nothing but silence on the other side. Munch knocked lightly and heard a muffled response. His hand paused on the doorknob, and for a brief moment he stopped dead in his tracks. He was torn--torn between a job that demanded he turn over the report in his hands and seek justice for the victim, and the harsh reality that the paperwork in his hand was about to irreparably change their lives forever… for better or worse.

Munch felt the doorknob turning in his hands. There was no going back now. Drawing in a deep breath, he stepped forward into the office. Cragen's desk was empty.

Fin's voice rose out of the darkness. "Captain is in the interrogation room with Tucker."

Munch whirled around at the sound of his partner's voice. He stepped forward, barely recognizing the weariness in Fin's eyes. "Then he's going to want this."

Fin nodded and reached for the file Munch had in his hand. "You got her to talk." His voice was quiet, tired, and filled with something Munch had never heard from him before…complete and utter resignation.

Munch nodded hollowly. "Look, tell the captain…I need a break. I'll be back tomorrow." He turned slowly, retreating into the shadows and slipped out of the door before Fin could respond. Blindly, Munch stumbled through the squad room. He felt as if he were suffocating, felt the distance between each breath becoming increasingly pronounced. His footsteps quickened past Elliot's desk, desperate for an escape. He started to turn toward the hallway to his left, but he was frozen in place. His eyes were riveted on the empty desk in front of him, and for the first time, the tears began to fall.

* * *

Olivia scrawled her signature on the paperwork in front of her. She shifted her weight from one foot to the next. She was so close.

"Olivia, are you sure?"

"Sara, I appreciate the concern, but Doctor Pierson has already cleared me to go. I just need to get out of here."

"At least let me call someone to get you," Sara begged helplessly, ignoring the determination in Olivia's eyes.

"Sara, you've done enough for me already. I can take it from here. There's a half dozen cabs circling the hospital. Really, I'll be fine." Olivia's voice was firm.

"Just promise me that you'll call someone when you get there."

Olivia avoided her eyes. "Fine. I'll call someone when I get there," she echoed quietly. Olivia turned quickly and slipped into the awaiting elevator before Sara could say another word.

Her footsteps were brisk and confident as she stepped out of the elevator and turned toward the main exit of the hospital. She was so close to escaping from it all. Only a few more steps and she could leave this place and everything that it represented behind. A few more steps, and she could finally escape the overwhelming concern and pity. A few more steps, and she could have her life back.

Olivia slid into the first cab she saw. Letting her body melt back into the leather upholstery, she closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of the city. _Like hell she'd call someone when she got home. She could take care of herself._

* * *

"Can I get another one?" Elliot pushed aside the empty glass, ignoring the steady gaze of the man who stood before him."Surveying him carefully, Ray grudgingly slid another drink over in front of Elliot. "Care to talk about it?" he asked gently.

"Nope." Elliot's fingers curved around the tumbler, and he tilted his head back, allowing the rushing liquid to communicate an end to a conversation he wouldn't allow to begin.

Another voice called out from the other end of the bar. "Hey, Ray. Help us out here, huh."

With one final look back at Elliot, Ray reluctantly turned toward the voice. "I'm coming, boys."

As the voices faded to laughter, Elliot realized he was alone again. He stared down into the seemingly endless pool of liquid. How many more would it take before the silence finally won out over everything else? There were no words to describe the reality he was living in now--no words that could possibly communicate the emotions he couldn't even begin to identify. There was only the promise of impending silence, a silence that reminded him of a conversation between those who never needed to speak, but instinctively understood. He wanted that silence. He needed that silence to make sense of it all.

* * *

"Are you satisfied?" The words that rolled off of his tongue were dripping with pure contempt, but Cragen didn't care. He crossed the room, stopping only inches from Tucker's face. "You had no reason to suspend him."

Tucker met his defiant glare with a smug smile. "It's a temporary suspension," he emphasized icily. "And we have every reason to suspect Detective Stabler. Just because your unit can't do their job…"

"This unit is perfectly capable of doing their job. But we're not going to trample on the rights of a perfectly innocent detective to do it."

"Excuse me for not being entirely confident in your abilities," Tucker shot back heatedly. "You've been on this case since early Sunday morning and don't have a single lead yet. At least the evidence I have is tangible."

"That evidence," Cragen spat out emphatically, "could have been planted there by whoever brought Olivia to his apartment."

"Oh, I have no doubt it was," Tucker sneered. "But you're assuming that person is _not_ Detective Stabler." He allowed his words to sink in before continuing. "That _evidence_ is all we have right now. If your people could do their job, you'd already have a statement that may or may not back up our allegations against Detective Stabler. But until you're able to do that, someone has to be held responsible."

"Don't you dare accuse my squad of not being competent," Cragen retorted. "You've called us dozens of times to clean up your mess. I don't need you telling me how to do my job."

"Well, someone around here better because you're supposed to speak for the victim."

Cragen stepped back, the color draining from his face. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you seem more concerned with protecting Elliot than finding out the truth about who attacked Olivia."

When Cragen found his voice, his words were punctuated by an intense anger he didn't know existed. "Get out of here right now before I do something that we're both going to regret."

Tucker glared back at him for a long moment before turning on his heels and walking out the door. As the door slammed shut behind him with a resounding thud, Cragen realized his entire body was trembling. Dropping his head in defeat, he allowed himself to slide into the chair beside him.

_How the hell had a case that he had clung to so desperately managed to fall through the cracks? And of all people, why did Tucker have to be the one to catch all the pieces?_

Cragen heard the door swing open again, but he didn't bother to look up and see who had entered. He didn't need to. Fin's voice called out softly. "Captain?" The tone in his voice spoke what would never be voiced aloud.

"Yeah." The single word was barely more than a whisper. Cragen fought for a control he wasn't sure he possessed. He raised his head slowly. "What have we got?"

"Olivia's statement." The words were empty, hollow. Fin hadn't realized he had crossed the room until he found himself tossing the file on the table.

"And…" Cragen held his breath, waiting for an answer to the unspoken question.

"Elliot's in the clear, but we still have no idea who attacked her."

Cragen exhaled slowly. "Where's Munch?"

"He'll be back in the morning." The silent admission behind Fin's words didn't go unheard.

Cragen drew himself up to his feet wearily. So this is what it took. They had seen the unimaginable, had been witness to acts of violence that threatened to disrupt everything they believed in. It affected them, but they pushed forward unrelentingly. Standing beside each other, they somehow managed to right a scale that always seemed to be teetering on the edge of destruction. Their job was to precariously balance that fine line between caring too much and not enough. When you crossed that line, there was no one to fall back on…and no going back.

Staring at the file in his hand without seeing it, Cragen raised his eyes to meet the only one that still managed to be holding it together. "Fin, go find Elliot. I want both of you back in here first thing tomorrow morning."

"But Captain," Fin protested.

"That's an order, Fin." Cragen's voice softened. "Go home and get some rest. There's nothing more we can do tonight."

Silently, Cragen watched Fin walk away with a helplessness he couldn't control. His eyes fell to the watch on his wrist, the only sound that seemed to be left in the world. He had exactly fourteen hours to figure out how to piece together what he was afraid could never be repaired.

Cragen turned slowly and retreated back into his office. He flipped open the file.

_

* * *

_

Case : 2006-16-003482

_Incident: Aggravated Assault upon a Police Officer S 120.11_

_Kidnapping in the First Degree S 135.25_

_Rape in the First Degree S 130.35_

_Complainant: Olivia Benson_

* * *

Cragen's eyes fluttered shut, and as if by instinct, he found himself reaching for the only thing that seemed to make sense any more. Cragen raised a glass to his lips and let the burning liquid that slid down his throat envelope him, pushing him toward the one thing he needed more than anything else…oblivion.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

* * *

A faint buzzing cut through the silence. Elliot stared down at the phone vibrating on the counter in front of him in annoyance. He swallowed hard. His hand was trembling as he reached for it, wanting so much to believe that he knew who was on the other end of the line.

_From Fin._

The tiny sliver of hope that welled up inside him died in an instant. He flipped the phone closed, not even bothering to read the message displayed on the screen. He didn't need this tonight. _Fuck Fin for interrupting the silence he'd fought so hard to achieve._ No sooner had he set down his phone when it began to ring.

"You gonna answer that?"

Elliot's eyes narrowed, turning to the voice beside him in a silent challenge. The hazel eyes that stared back at him weren't filled with the anger and annoyance he'd expected. His heart sank. They were filled with pity and empathy--eyes that didn't pretend to understand the situation, but understood the feeling of not knowing where to turn._ Fuck pity. Fuck understanding. _No one could understand. He didn't trust himself to answer, didn't trust his voice not to waver. Elliot stared back, anger churning in the depths of his eyes, wanting so much to believe that it could be enough. He needed to stay angry. It was the only way he was going to survive another night, because when the anger left, the only emotions left were those he wasn't ready to acknowledge.

The ringing finally quieted, and Elliot breathed a sigh of relief in the moment of reprieve. Then it all started again. He buried his face in his hands, not trusting himself to look up, not trusting himself to answer, and not sure at what point his life had shattered into a million pieces.

"Elliot Stabler's phone."

Elliot snapped his head up out of his hands at the sound of Ray's voice.

"Fin, it's Ray Maloney. Look…" He paused glancing up in front of him. "Yeah, Elliot's here. You might want to…ok thanks." He snapped the phone shut, sliding it back across the table. "Elliot, why don't you go home?"

Elliot shook his head wordlessly. When he finally found his voice, he spoke softly. "I can't, Ray. I don't have anywhere to go."

* * *

"Jeffries." The clipped voice that answered the phone was met with nothing but silence. Monique rolled her eyes and started to hang up the phone.

"Wait." The voice on the other end of the line was rushed, breathless.

"Who is this?"

"This is Sara, Sara Breswick. I'm a nurse at Mercy General Hospital. You gave me your number when you came to interview Olivia Benson."

Jeffries drew in a sharp breath. She allowed her voice to soften. "Yeah, I remember." She was silent, afraid to voice the question she knew she needed to ask. "Is everything okay with Olivia?"

The hesitation on the other end of the line was unmistakable. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't even be calling you."

"Sara, wait!" Monique's voice was sharp, frantic. "Wait! Please…please tell me."

"It's just… I'm worried about her. The doctor released her from the hospital about an hour ago."

Jeffries didn't even realize she was holding her breath until she felt her body relaxing. She exhaled softly. "That's great news!" Then slowly, it dawned on her. Apprehension crept into her voice. "So why are you worried about her now?"

The voice on the other end of the line was soft, timid--showing every bit of a youth that Jeffries had never noticed until now. "It's probably nothing, but she wouldn't let me call anyone to tell them she'd been released."

Jeffries heard the rushed explanation and rubbed her eyes, feeling a sudden wave of exhaustion. Of course she wouldn't. Olivia was too damn stubborn to admit she needed help. "Sara, how did she leave the hospital? She didn't have a car, any clothes, money?"

A spark of guilt welled up inside of her. Why the hell hadn't she checked back up on Olivia? Why hadn't any of them checked up on her? They had let her push them away, had intentionally ignored the one thing that had been drilled into their heads from the moment they first stepped foot in the unit.

_You don't leave a rape victim alone. Even if she pushes you away…_

"I gave her some hospital scrubs to wear, and she said she was going to take a cab."

"How the hell did she expect to pay for a cab?" Monique's words were suddenly sharp…far too sharp. She could hear the voice on the other end recoil. "I'm sorry, Sara. I'm not angry with you." The words tumbled out quickly. "It's just…we should have been there," she managed hollowly. "Sara, did she say where she was going?"

"She told me that she was going home. She said she'd call someone when she got there." Jeffries heard the rising hope at the end of Sara's words and shook her head.

"If I know Olivia, she has no intention of calling anyone. Look, Sara." She paused, listening to the soft breathing on the other end of the line. "You did the right thing. Thank you for calling me." She ended the call, her heart heavy in her chest and slowly drew herself up to her feet.

"Hey, Carl. I need to take care of something. Can you cover Studio 54 on your own?" Jeffries turned to her partner, ignoring the inquisitive, concerned expression on his face.

"Sure," he sighed, offering her a small smile. "I've got you covered."

Jeffries stood up to leave, reaching for her keys. She turned back toward him. "Thanks."

* * *

"Can you please wait?" Olivia fought to keep her voice even, her eyes pleading with the annoyed cab driver. "I'll be right back. I just…need to grab some cash." Her voice wavered slightly.

The driver stared back at her, accusingly. Finally he sighed reluctantly. "I'm not stopping the meter."

"Okay." Olivia breathed a sigh of relief, letting the door fall shut behind her. She was climbing the stairs to her building when it hit her—a realization that sent her reeling back with utter panic followed by deep trepidation. Her footsteps slowed, resigning herself to accept the inevitable. Olivia reached forward, tugging at the door with a fierceness born out of a desperate need to escape.

Her worst fears were confirmed. The door stood its ground, silently acting as an unyielding barrier that threatened her ability to get away from it all.

_I can take care of myself. _

The words echoed in her head now, silently mocking her, a tribute to her inability to accomplish even the most mundane task on her own. She had become hopelessly tangled in the inevitable, desperately clinging to a strength and an independence that had been painstakingly stripped away from her by the one thing that had defined her life since the moment of conception.

Olivia staggered back, suddenly unable to deny what everyone around her had long since realized but had no idea how to communicate. _She couldn't do it on her own. Olivia Benson needed help._

The silent admission shook her to her core. Humiliation and shame swept over her, relentlessly pounding away at what was left of a barricade that had long since been washed away. It was the absence of a single key and twenty-two dollars in cab fare that shattered the final semblance of control.

Olivia slid to the ground, her lungs gasping for breath against the tears that wracked her body. The tears mingled with a gentle breeze that seemed to tear through the thin fabric of the hospital scrubs, obliterating the final trace of a strength she no longer possessed.

* * *

Fin's eyes traced the room slowly, solemnly taking in the scene before him. His footsteps heavy, he finally forced himself to step forward toward the bar. Ray nodded at him silently.

"Elliot."

There was no response, no movement. Elliot was slumped up against the bar, his head buried in his hands. Fin reached over gently to pry his hands away. "Go away."

Fin's heart sank at the bloodshot eyes. He slid into the seat next to him. "You know we're all hurting here, Elliot."

"Go to hell."

Fin tensed slightly. "Look, Tucker had no right to go off on you like that, but don't you dare try to put this back on me."

Elliot turned toward him with glazed eyes. "That's right," he slurred. "You were just doin' your job."

"You think I turned the photos over to Tucker?" Fin's voice was incredulous. "Tucker brought them to us. Munch and I are bustin' our asses trying to work this case on our own. Where the hell have you been?"

Elliot snorted. "Didn't you hear? I'm off the case."

"Look, I've had enough of your bullshit. Now if you want to sit here and get wasted, that's fine with me. I just thought you might want to know that Munch got a statement from Olivia."

Elliot's head snapped up. A harsh laugh escaped from his lips. "Oh, so what you're telling me is that now you believe me."

"This isn't about believing you. Everyone in this squad is on your side, Elliot." Fin fought to control the anger rising within him.

"Yeah, sure. I forgot…everyone except me," Elliot mumbled flippantly. "It's my fault."

The last bit of control shattered. "You're damn right this is your fault," Fin retorted sharply.

Elliot staggered back, startled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Fin's words were laced with iciness and anger. "I read the report," he hissed. "The only reason Olivia wouldn't come forward is because of you."

The eyes that stared back at him were suddenly completely sober. "What do you mean because of me?" Elliot interrupted.

"Oh, come on. How can you forget?" Fin sneered. His voice changed, imitating Elliot's. "_I need to know that you can do your job without waiting for me to come to the rescue."_

The words hit him with a force that sent him reeling backward. Elliot staggered back, his face white in shock. "I…I didn't mean it," he whispered. He felt the bile rising in his throat. Elliot looked around frantically, not sure where to go, or how to escape. He swallowed hard. "I didn't mean it."

Fin took a deep breath. "Then you sure as hell better make it up to her cause I'm not gonna let you hurt her again. She's put up with enough of your bullshit. She doesn't need any more, not from you. So pull yourself together."

Elliot's eyes were shimmering with tears. "I want to help her," he whispered.

Fin nodded curtly. "Well, you're sure as hell not helping her here. Come on, Elliot, let's go." He threw a wad of cash across the bar at Ray and took a step toward the door. Elliot didn't move. "Come on, I'm taking you out of here." His hand wrapped around Elliot's shoulder, spinning him around toward the door.

Elliot jerked away, his eyes staring straight ahead at the bar, the expression on his face ashen.

"Goddamn it Elliot. What the hell's the matter with you? I said we're leaving," Fin snapped.

Elliot was rooted in place. "Fin, that's Olivia's jacket."

Fin spun around to face Elliot, his eyes seeking out the object in question. And then he saw it. "Damn," he whispered softly.

Elliot was already ahead of him. "Ray, where the hell did you get that jacket?"

Ray turned away from the man across the bar from him. "Excuse me?"

Fin interceded quickly. "Ray, that jacket--where did it come from?"

Ray crossed back over to them, reaching for the jacket on the coat rack behind the bar. "This one here. Someone left it here last week," he noted casually.

"What day last week?" Elliot demanded.

Ray paused, wracking his brain to remember. "Must have been Friday night. Wait a minute…isn't that the night you said Olivia went missing?"

Fin nodded grimly. "Yeah, and you're lookin' at her jacket." He reached forward to snatch it out of his hands.

"You think it will help?" Ray asked, his voice hopeful.

"Only one way to find out. Come on, Elliot. Let's get this straight to the lab."

* * *

Her footsteps were quiet as she crossed the street toward the awaiting cab. Without a second thought, Monique slipped a few bills out of her pocket and tossed it at the awaiting driver.

"Who the hell are you?"

Monique turned back toward the voice. "Does it matter who I am? As far as you're concerned, I'm the one paying this fare. Now get the hell out of here."

The man stepped back stunned. "But this isn't…" The glare she shot back silenced him immediately. "Whatever," he mumbled. He slid into the drivers' side, slamming the door shut behind him, and pulling away from the curb.

As he disappeared around the corner, Monique turned back around and saw her. Her back was to the building, her knees drawn to her chest, and her head resting lightly on her hands. For the first time, Olivia was completely oblivious to the outside world. Monique felt her breath catch in her throat, felt it constricting until she thought she would never be able to fill it with oxygen again. She willed her body to rely on instinct, willed it to somehow allow her to find the strength she knew Olivia desperately needed.

As she approached her quietly, she could see Olivia's shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Monique slammed the palm of her hand on the button of the controlled access panel at the door before slowly turning to do what she dreaded the most. "Olivia, honey. Come on. It's going to be okay." Gently, she moved closer to wrap her arm around her trembling shoulders, drawing her up to her feet.

Olivia tensed as soon as she felt the touch. She let out a soft whimper.

"Olivia, look at me," Jeffries instructed her gently.

Olivia cautiously raised her head to meet Monique's troubled eyes. A shaking hand reached up to brush away the tears flowing freely down her face.

"Come on, let's get you inside." As she spoke, Jeffries turned toward the door, silently summoning the super to respond to her call. She was relieved to see a man standing at the doorway. Jeffries flashed her shield, and the door swung open.

"Now, what do you people want?"

Jeffries' glared down at him. "Not a word," she snapped. "Just open the damn door."

Turning back to Olivia, Monique placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, a silent touch of support, while allowing her to maintain the dignity she desperately needed to begin the ascent toward her apartment. It wasn't until the door slammed shut behind them, and they were alone, that Olivia finally spoke.

"I thought…I could…do…this…on my own." Her words were broken, shattering what was left of Monique's already crumbling resolve.

Monique helped her over to the couch and knelt down beside her. "Honey, you don't have to do that. We're here for you. We're all here for you." Her arms circled around Olivia's still trembling shoulders and drew her in, silently offering her the only thing left in the world. She felt Olivia's body stiffen and then slowly relax as together their tears melted together into one.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

* * *

"Thank you." Olivia tore her eyes away from the cup in her hand and met those of the woman in front of her. Monique smiled softly. "I mean it," Olivia added thoughtfully.

"I'm just glad to see you're doing better," Monique confessed quietly.

Olivia cracked a small smile. "Yeah, well apparently a cup of coffee can work miracles," she commented dryly.

"Well, if I had known that's all it would take," Jeffries returned light-heartedly. "But seriously, do you need anything else? What about money, groceries?"

Olivia shook her head. "No, thanks. I'll manage. I just…" She hesitated slightly.

Jeffries came around the side of the couch, dropping a single key in Olivia's lap with a knowing smile. "Here," she interrupted.

Olivia's smile this time was genuine. "Thanks, Monique."

Jeffries stared at her hands, carefully phrasing her next words. "Olivia, are you sure you're okay here alone? I can stay."

Olivia shook her head insistently. "No, Monique. Go home. I'm fine."

"Okay," Jeffries agreed softly. "Call me if you need anything." She pulled the door shut behind her and closed her eyes, leaning against the frame until she heard the deadbolt click into place.

* * *

"That doesn't make any sense." Fin shook his head, bewildered. "I've seen Liv drink before, but never like that."

"Neither have I," Elliot agreed. "But everyone I've talked to who was there that night is giving me the same story."

"So she was drunk. Are you saying she was asking for it?" Jeffries demanded defensively, her words taking on a sudden fury.

Munch was quick to intervene. "No one is saying what happened is her fault. All we're saying is that something here is seriously wrong."

"I don't like this." Elliot slid away from his desk and began pacing. "She had two drinks while I was there. She said she was going home. What the hell happened?"

"Two drinks don't escalate to ten in less than two hours without a damn good reason why," Cragen asserted thoughtfully.

"It could explain why she claims not to remember anything," Munch pointed out.

Fin nodded in agreement. "Yeah, with that much booze in her system, she's lucky she didn't end up with alcohol poisoning."

"Oh, this is just great," Jeffries argued hotly. "No need for a jury to put her through hell. You guys are doing a damn good job of it on your own. Did it ever occur to you that maybe she just isn't ready to talk about it yet?"

Elliot stared straight ahead in silence, searching for the words to explain what he could not. Before he had a chance to try to speak, the phone at his desk rang. All eyes turned to him as he reached for the receiver. "Stabler." He paused, listening intently to the other end of the conversation. "Okay thanks. We'll be right down."

He raised his eyes to meet Cragen's. "O'Halloran got something off of the jacket."

Cragen nodded. "Okay. Elliot, Fin. Go." Cragen nodded in dismissal and watched them grab their jackets and head for the door before he spoke. "Munch, Jeffries." He took a deep breath. "I need to know what's not in your report?"

* * *

A sharp rap sounded at the door. Olivia raised her arm unsteadily, her entire body tense.

"Olivia?"

Her voice was shaking when she finally responded. "Who is it?"

"Olivia, it's me…George."

Olivia exhaled shakily as she finally placed the voice. Crossing quickly over to the door, she unlocked the deadbolt and pushed it open. Her eyes darted nervously over his shoulder before she allowed him to pass through the doorway. "What are you doing here, George?" Her voice was hesitant.

"I thought you might want some lunch." Cautiously, Huang raised the hand holding a white take-out bag.

She smiled for the first time, locking the door behind him before she turned back around. "Thanks."

"How are you doing?" he asked pointedly, offering her the bag.

She accepted it, eager for the moment of reprieve. "I'm fine," she insisted stubbornly.

"Okay, care to talk about it?"

She turned her back to him. "Nope." Olivia reached in the bag and began to pull out the cartons, spreading them out on the kitchen counter. "I'm fine."

"I can see that," he agreed simply.

She whipped around. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Huang raised his eyes to meet hers. "It means you haven't put your gun down since the moment I walked in the door."

* * *

"You are going to love me." O'Halloran didn't move from his position at the microscope as he spoke. After a moment, he finally straightened up and turned to face the two detectives standing in the doorway.

"Let's hope so," Fin commented dryly.

"What have we got?" Elliot added quickly, unable to keep the curiosity out of his voice.

"No sign of bodily fluids, but I did find this." O'Halloran motioned for them to move closer before stretching the fabric of the jacket out for them to take a look.

"It's a stain," Elliot observed mildly.

"Not just any stain. I was able to run it through the gas chromatograph and isolate the chemical compounds…"

Fin didn't wait for him to finish. "And…" he prompted impatiently.

"Olivia spilled her drink on her jacket," O'Halloran announced.

"That's great, Ryan," Elliot added, rolling his eyes. "You called us all the way down here for that. We already knew she was drinking. Please tell me that you have something we can actually use?"

"How about trace amounts of GHB in the alcohol on her jacket?"

Elliot drew his breath in sharply. There was a stunned silence before he finally found words to respond. "She was drugged?"

O'Halloran nodded soberly. "Yeah."

"No wonder she can't remember anything." Fin's voice was suddenly soft, his words filled with a new understanding. "Why the hell didn't we think of that?"

"The bastard kept plying her with drinks," Elliot acknowledged quietly. "Olivia probably never even realized she was still drinking. After I left, she only remembers having one drink."

"And we've got a handful of patrons who will say she threw back almost a dozen," Fin finished grimly.

"Yeah, and no blood work to counteract their testimony," Elliot added. "Any traces of GHB would have been out of her system long before we found her."

Fin turned back to Elliot. "GHB, Midazolam…this guy is like a walking pharmacy."

"Maybe he works for some pharmaceutical company?" Elliot suggested quickly.

"That one's up to you, but I might be able to help you with an ID on him." O'Halloran's voice rang out from behind them. They both turned around slowly, their faces registering shook. "We've been sorting through the debris from the fire." O'Halloran motioned back to the microscope he had been standing in front of when they came in. Grabbing a set of forceps, he gingerly pulled out a partially shriveled plastic card. "Driver's license belonging to a Roger Hammond," Ryan announced smugly, holding it out on display.

"And all roads lead back to Roger Hammond," Fin muttered. "Who the hell is this guy?"

Elliot turned to O'Halloran quickly. "Any chance you were able to lift a print off of this?"

O'Halloran grinned back at them. "Didn't I say you were going to love me?" Crossing over to a nearby computer, he rotated the monitor toward them. "Two pristine prints with full ridge detail belonging to the one and only…"

Elliot crossed his arms over his chest, letting the single name roll of his tongue in satisfaction. "Michael Pasley."

* * *

Olivia froze instantly. Her eyes flew down to her side, acknowledging for the first time the Glock clutched tightly in her hand. She shrugged casually, her brain searching for some plausible excuse. There was none. "It's my old service revolver. I was just…"

"Olivia," Huang interrupted cautiously. "I'm just a concerned friend right now--nothing more, nothing less."

Olivia stared back at him, confusion swimming in her eyes. She felt him reach for the gun in her hand and pull it away from her. "Olivia…no paperwork, no judgment. I'm just here to listen."

_I'm just here to listen. _

She hesitated, her eyes frantically looking toward him as if somehow seeking approval. He didn't return her gaze. He had turned his back, retreating to the living room, silently letting her know he was there when she was ready.

_Nothing more. Nothing less._

Tears sprang to her eyes. He was waiting for her, waiting for her to pull away yet again and accepting it fully as her decision.

_Without judgment._

Against everything he had ever been taught, he was allowing her to decide when she was ready to talk, not expecting anything more than she was willing to give.

And for the first time, Olivia realized that in doing so he had given her what she was afraid she would never be able to find again--control.

_By acknowledging that it affects you…that's the way that you handle something traumatic._

The words came out of nowhere…a memory long since buried that suddenly held new meaning. She had a _choice_. She could retreat, hide, bury the truth; and he would never question her. She could allow it to take control over her, molding her life into an obscure remnant of what it had once been. Or she could acknowledge the truth, confront her fears, and learn to survive.

Olivia's footsteps were tentative as she crossed the room and took a seat next to him on the couch. He was silent, gently encouraging her, but at the same time, waiting for her to take the lead. Olivia drew her knees up to her chest, turning toward him. When she finally spoke, her words were soft. "I know that everything I'm feeling is completely normal."

Huang raised his eyes to meet hers. "You're right, Liv. It is. But you still feel that you should be able to control it?"

She nodded. "I understand every emotion. I know what's coming next because I've seen it over and over again, but I can't stop it from happening. I can't stop myself from feeling it."

"It's a grieving process, Olivia. Knowledge isn't a cure that makes it go any faster." She took in his words, acknowledging the truth behind them. Huang watched her carefully. "You know you don't have to prove anything to anyone else."

"I'm not." The defensive tone that crept into her voice betrayed the truth behind her words.

"And you don't have to prove anything to yourself."

Olivia fought to control the tremble in her lower lip. "I'm afraid that I won't be able to handle it."

"Handle going back?" he asked gently. At her affirmative nod, he pushed forward gently. "Olivia, the fact that you're here talking to me now tells me that you can handle going back."

"I don't want it to change how they look at me. I don't want them to treat me like I'm a victim."

"I'm not going to pretend that everything is going to be okay, Liv. The emotions you're feeling now are going to get worse before they get better. But everyone in the squad is there to help you through it. You don't have to prove anything to any of them. There isn't a single person who doubts your ability to do your job."

"What if I can't control my emotions?"

"Olivia, I'm not going to lie to you. It's going to change the way you do your job. It's going to change how every case affects you. But you can use those emotions you're feeling now to help you become a better cop."

"For the first time, I think I understand her." Olivia's words came out as barely more than a whisper.

Huang held her gaze before he spoke. "Your mother?"

"She loved me, and she hated me all at the same time. And as much as I hate what happened, a part of me is grateful for the understanding that came out of it."

"But then you blame yourself for feeling that? Olivia, it's not a bad thing to want to look for something good in what happened. It doesn't mean it's your fault. It doesn't mean you were asking for it."

Fresh tears sprang to her eyes at the sincerity behind his words. "I know that, so why can't I control it. Why can't I make those emotions go away?"

He didn't answer her. "Olivia, did you take the Levonelle?"

Wordlessly, she shook her head. "I always thought that if it were me, I would be different. I even told Elliot once that I would take it." She hesitated. "But when it was actually in my hands, I couldn't do it, George."

"Why do you think that is, Liv?"

She was deep in thought for a long time. When she finally answered, her eyes were shimmering with tears. "I don't want to believe that my mother's decision to have me was a mistake. I want to believe that I'm here for a reason."

"But at the same time it scares you," he observed.

She nodded her head in response. "I go back in a little over three weeks for another test. What if it's positive? What if I'm pregnant?"

Huang reached for her hand. "Then we'll do whatever we can to support your decision. But Olivia, you're not alone in this."

She heard his words, and for the first time, Olivia allowed herself to see truth behind them. The helplessness began to fade ever so slightly. Behind it was the smallest glimmer of hope that there could be light at the end of a tunnel that had thus far thrust her life into darkness.

Olivia stood up, stretching her legs. "What do you think about checking out that lunch?" she suggested with a smile. "I'm starving."

Huang smiled. "That sounds like a great idea."

Olivia followed him into the kitchen. For the first time in days, she actually felt hungry. She watched him fill his plate. Out of habit, she reached for the bag at the end. Tearing open the plastic wrapper, she held the fortune cookie in her hand. Splitting it in two, she popped one half in her mouth. She separated the tiny slip of paper from the other half, and with a smile tucked it away for another day.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

* * *

"Well, if it didn't come from you, then who…" Cragen's words died out, and he held the receiver to his ear, intently listening to the words on the other end. He reclined back in his chair, the expression on his face troubled. "Yes, sir, I understand. Thank you."

Gingerly, Cragen replaced the receiver and stood up, crossing the room quickly. Abruptly, his hands reached for the blinds. As light flooded his office, he carefully surveyed the detectives gathered around the squad room. He felt a growing uneasiness wrestling within him. It was an internal instinct that had served him well through the years. It was the ability to know, to sense when something was off kilter--the ability to recognize what others merely overlooked. It had been the one thing he had never challenged, never questioned…until now. But now if he allowed himself to acknowledge the implication behind the growing trepidation, he didn't know where it left any of them.

_What the hell was going on with this case?_

His decision made, Cragen flipped the blinds shut again, sweeping the room into darkness. It was too early for questions, too early for assumptions because the truth of what it might mean scared the hell out of him. It meant that the one thing they had come to rely on above everything else was no longer safe.

Cragen turned toward the door and silently slipped through it. He needed to focus, needed to concentrate. _He needed to find answers._ They all did. "All right, what have we got?"

Elliot turned toward him, snatching the single sheet of paper rolling out of the printer. A satisfied smirk played on his face as he held it out. "Michael Pasley--we've got an address for him right here in Manhattan."

Fin nodded. "Yeah, it fits with the time frame of the assault too. Elliot left Liv about ten o'clock. The time stamp on the receipt from Maloney's is 11:47 pm. That doesn't give the perp much time. Leslie Carlton was killed between midnight and 2 am."

Munch pointed to the timeline he had established on the board. "That gives him less than two hours to take Olivia to the basement, chain her to the bed, rape her the first time, kill Leslie, and dump her body."

Elliot's face was pale as he stared back at Munch. _Rape her the first time._ The words echoed in his head. He had tried to deny it. He had needed to deny it, but the truth of it all hit him now with a force that stole every last breath from his body.

"What makes you think he attacked Olivia first?" Cragen contemplated carefully.

Fin's words were quiet when he spoke. "Had to, Captain. Leslie was strangled with her belt." The omission behind his words didn't go unheard.

Munch turned toward the map on the board. "There's more, Captain. Here's Maloney's, the dress shop, the park, and Elliot's apartment." Munch dropped a yellow pin in place on the map at each location.

Cragen nodded in agreement. "They're all within a five block radius."

"Bingo." Munch turned toward them, the tiniest smile tugging at the corner of his lips."That must mean that Olivia was held somewhere in that five blocks. With onlytwo hours, the perp wouldn't have had time to go much further." The realization hit Cragen hard. All that time, and she had been so close.

Elliot finally spoke. He reached over for the final pin in Munch's hand, placing it smack dab in the middle of the others. "And here's Michael Pasley's apartment."

Cragen eyed him carefully. "All right, what do you say we bring him in for a little chat." As they all turned toward the door, he hesitated. "Munch, Fin, go. Elliot, I need to talk to you in my office."

* * *

Olivia stared straight ahead at the wall in front of her without seeing anything. She closed her eyes again, relishing the security of the darkness surrounding her. It was so cold. Slowly, as if in a daze, she realized that the water pounding her body was now ice cold. Opening her eyes again, she reached forward, turning the knob in her hand and watched as the last bit of water swirled away effortlessly down the drain. She stepped out of the shower, reaching for the towel that hung from the rack. It was still damp. They all were. She wanted to wash away the memory of that night, wanted to scrub away every bruise that littered her body, wanted to wipe away the blood…wait, the blood.

Slowly, Olivia looked down and realized that the water had long since faded away, but in its absence, her skin was raw from the material now draped guiltily in herhand. The gash on her chest was now gushing fresh blood. Her fingers were shaking as she re-wrapped the wound. She reached for the sweat suit she had left on the counter.

Once fully dressed, she retreated back to the kitchen. She poured herself another cup of coffee and watched as the sugar swirled around in the cup, melting together until the two became one. Her fingers laced around the mug, feeling the warmth that radiated from it. She lifted the steaming liquid to her lips, barely noticing the scalding liquid as it burned down her throat. Her fingers gripped the cup in her hand, and finally she dared to cross the room again. She stared out the window, fighting back the wave of panic. It was still there. Her eyes stared across the street at the dark sedan parked alongside the curb directly in front of her apartment, a shadowy figure her only indication of its occupant.

* * *

"Michael Pasley," Fin snarled, staring at the man who sat before him in the interrogation room, his words dripping with satisfaction. "Or do you prefer Mikey?"

"No, I think he prefers to go by Roger?" Munch suggested mildly.

The man smirked back. "Look, I know my rights. You ain't got nothin' on me. What do you want?"

"Oh, I'd say we have a hell of a lot on you. Looks like you've been in trouble before, huh Mikey?" Munch jumped in, opening the file in his hand. "Identity theft, forgery, insurance fraud…shall I go on?"

"Yeah, well that was all a misunderstanding."

"A misunderstanding," Fin repeated harshly. "Well, Mikey, why don't you help us clear up another misunderstanding?"

Munch threw a plastic evidence bag across the table. "You want to tell us about this?"

Mikey stared down at the license in front of him. He crossed his arms and leaned back. "I never seen this before in my life."

"Oh, really, cause your fingerprints were all over it," Fin grunted.

"Yeah, well I don't know how they got there."

"Oh, that's a real nice one. Why don't you come up with something a little more original next time--give us something to look forward to," Munch commented sarcastically.

"Fine, maybe it was someone who came into the store where I work. I touch a lot of licenses there."

Fin leaned in, his face only inches away. "Yeah, what kind of store?"

Taking note of the sudden silence, Munch turned around, intrigued. "Come on Mikey, why don't you tell us what kind of store?"

"Look, you people think it's easy to get a job with a record?" Mikey broke in, defensively. "I had to take a job wherever I could."

"You didn't answer the question," Fin commanded coldly.

Mikey stared back in silence. "It's a dress shop," he finally muttered.

Both men's heads snapped up. Munch was the first to speak. "What's the name of the dress shop?"

Mikey rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, like you've ever heard of it. The name is Estello's."

* * *

Cragen leaned in and pressed the button in front of him, sweeping the room into silence.

Casey was the first one to speak. "Well, that was easy."

Cragen frowned. "Yeah, too easy. The guy we're looking for is smart. He left virtually no forensic evidence on either of his victims. And he somehow was able to charm both Kathy and Olivia. This guy…"

"Yeah, he's none of those things," Casey interrupted dryly. She arched her eyebrows inquisitively. "So we've got the wrong guy?"

"Well, if he is our guy, he's certainly not working alone." Cragen leaned forward again, releasing the button.

* * *

"Yeah, sure I worked Wednesday morning. The boss sent me home early--said it was too slow for two of us to stay there."

"That must have pissed you off. After all, you don't work, you don't get paid, right?" Munch suggested.

"Whatever," Mikey shrugged his shoulders. "As it turns out, I got lucky that night so no hard feelings."

Fin leaned forward menacingly. "Excuse me?"

Mikey crossed his arms in front of him chest. "Yeah, I went to my weekly poker night with some friends, and I raked in the cash."

Munch closed his eyes. He tossed a legal pad and pen across the table. "Names?" he commanded.

As Mikey scrawled on the pad, he smirked back at them. "I'm sure they will be more than happy to account for my whereabouts that night. Is there anything else, Detectives?"

"Yeah," Fin added. "Why don't you get comfortable cause we're nowhere near done. Now tell me again, where you were on Friday night?"

Mikey sighed. "I told you before. I was home alone."

"How convenient," Munch added quickly. "I believe that's what we call no alibi."

"I didn't know I needed one," Mikey shot back. "Now what's all this about anyway?"

"Oh, I think you know exactly what this is about." Fin slid a photo across the table. "You remember seeing her on Wednesday?"

Mikey shrugged. "Never seen her before in my life."

"Yeah, how about this one? Let me guess, you've never seen her before either?" Fin slid a second photo over.

"Now this is one I'd definitely remember," he purred. "I didn't see her, but if I had, I would have been more than happy to…" Before he could finish, Fin had lifted him up out of his chair and backed him up against the wall. His forearm was locked across his throat. "What did you say?"

Mikey gasped for breath. "I…can't…breathe."

"Easy there, Fin," Munch cautioned quickly.

Fin's face hardened, and then grudgingly he released his hold. Mikey's eyes darted back and forth between the two of them. "I've never seen her before," he sputtered.

"You're going to wish you never had," Fin sneered.

"Come on Mikey. A woman mysteriously disappears from the dress shop that you work for and shows up dead in a park two blocks from your apartment," Munch asserted quickly. "Your fingerprints were found on a fake driver's license under the name Roger Hammond. The person using that card drugged, kidnapped, and raped a cop before trying to kill her."

"Yeah, and if you think a jury is going to believe you when you say you've never seen her before, I can assure you they won't give a damn," Fin added with a glare.

Mikey stared back at him, the color draining from his face. "I swear to God I never raped or murdered anyone!"

"Yeah, let me guess. It's just a misunderstanding." Fin laughed mirthlessly. "Let me tell you how much cops hate it when you hurt one of their own."

Mikey glanced back and forth between the two of them. "I mean it. I never touched either of those women!"

Munch crossed back over to them. "So help us out here, Mikey. Why don't you tell us one more time about the license?"

Mikey's shoulders slumped forward. "I do a little business on the side. One day, out of the blue, I get this call from some new guy--said he needed a license and credit card. He was real specific about the details--especially the address. It seemed a little odd, but he paid me double what I normally charge so I figured what the hell."

"I need a name," Fin snapped.

Mikey hesitated. "What are you gonna do for me if I tell you?"

Munch glared down at him. "If you're information checks out, we'll see what we can do."

"All right, all I know is a first name--Garrett something or other."

"Where do we find him?" Fin demanded coldly.

"I don't have an address or anything like that. I sent the cards to a post office box." Munch nudged the legal pad closer. Mikey's hand hesitated as he jotted down the info. "You're still gonna help me out, right?"

"Yeah, sure" Fin snatched up the legal pad and rolled his eyes. Hearing the rap at the window he followed Munch out the door.

* * *

Olivia's eyes wandered down to her wrist--10:36 pm. She forced herself to her feet, forced herself to tread her way back to the kitchen. She was midway through pouring a cup of coffee when she heard it--the soft footsteps approaching. They stopped outside her doorway. Olivia dropped the mug in her hand and staggered back, completely oblivious to the scalding liquid on her skin. Unable to retreat any further, she froze, her body pressed up against the cupboards.

_She was trapped. There was nowhere to go, no way to retreat from the approaching footsteps. With a certain helplessness, she willed her body to move, but it refused to respond. She tried to fight him off as he moved closer, but she suddenly had no control over her limbs. She tried to scream, but no sound escaped. _

Olivia let out a whimper as she slid to the floor. "No…please…stop."

"Olivia!" The voice that called out was filled with alarm, but it was familiar. Olivia raised her head slowly. She brushed back the curtain of bangs that fell in her face. "Olivia." The voice was softer now, and this time there was no mistaking it. She drew herself up to her feet and crossed over to the door, stopping only long enough to grab the Glock from the kitchen countertop. Glancing through the peephole in the door, she tensed slightly. "Olivia, please."

Olivia reached over and turned the deadbolt. Cautiously, she raised her gun before pushing the door open. Her voice was shaking when she finally managed to speak. "What are you doing here?"


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

* * *

The door swung open silently.

In its absence, Elliot stared back at her, frozen in place. His eyes were fixed on the nine millimeter Glock in her hand, the one pointed directly at his chest. "It's okay, Liv. It's just me."

Her eyes darted nervously behind him before she finally lowered her weapon. "Jesus, Elliot. What the hell are you doing here?"

Elliot found himself stumbling over the words. "Cragen said they released you from the hospital. I came to make sure you were okay."

Olivia glared back at him. "I'm talking about you staking out my apartment," she hissed.

He stepped around her, temporarily avoiding the question as he struggled to discern the appropriate response. _Denial, concern, empathy_…how the hell was he supposed to answer her question? _Cragen asked me to check up on you? I can't lose you?_ The words spun through his head, an endless cycle that would no doubt set her off. He pushed the door shut behind them, locking the deadbolt in place.

_After last time, there's no way in hell I was going to take the chance at calling a protective detail…_

Elliot froze. _That didn't sound so bad, right? It showed sensitivity, concern for her well-being, his ability to respect her wishes… _"I wanted to make sure you were okay." Elliot paused, grimacing at the defensive edge to his voice. "I thought you would rather have me here than a protective detail."

He stared back at the look of absolute fury on her face. _Shit, wrong response._ The expression on her face now was livid. Seeing it, his lips twisted in the faintest hint of a smile. Somehow, it was comforting, familiar--anger he could handle, silence was a given, arguments, a form of silent communication masking the unspoken. It was how they operated. It was how they thrived. It was how they somehow managed to accomplish what no other partnership in the NYPD could when arguments turned to stubborn silence.

"I don't need someone to protect me," Olivia retorted.

"And no one's saying you do," he shot back heatedly.

He regretted the words the moment they left his lips. In an instant, the familiar faded away. Hesitation crept in, insecurity replaced fury, and a fear that suddenly seemed all too real filled the eyes that had once given him nothing but hope and security. She spun on her heels, her retreating footsteps tearing him apart piece by piece, the tears she was fighting to hide suddenly swimming in his own eyes. His feet were rooted in place, not sure whether to run after her, or let her push him further away.

He knew her, knew everything about her. He could instinctively sense what she would never readily admit, could instantly read what she was desperate to keep hidden. He could understand every thought, every emotion by one look in her eyes. He could anticipate her every movement by watching the way she shifted her weight from one foot to another. But suddenly, he was at a loss. The fear that clouded her eyes now was completely foreign. It wasn't his best friend or his partner before him now--it was a woman desperate to hide the truth, desperate to believe that she could hide behind the unknown, and desperately seeking to understand what could never be understood.

He wanted to help her understand, but he had no idea how to help her make sense of it all. He knew how to talk to a victim. He knew what they needed to hear as much as he knew what words should never be spoken. But he had no idea how to talk to _Olivia_.

Maybe she was right to push him away.

He turned abruptly and followed her into the kitchen. Elliot fought for deep, even breaths, relying on every last bit of training to propel him forward. _A victim has had her sense of control stripped away from her. Give her choices. Never make assumptions._ "Olivia," he began softly. "Can I come in?"

"Elliot, please stop," she pleaded.

He froze in confusion. _Stop? To hell with choices._ He stepped closer, studying her carefully.

"Just stop." Numbly, Olivia turned toward the kitchen sink and realized that she had already turned on the tap water. She ran her hand under the cold water, allowing it to soothe the burn left by the coffee still dripping from her fingers.

Her back was still to him when he realized that the rushing water had changed from clear to crimson. "Olivia, you're bleeding."

He saw her eyes fall to her hand slowly. "It's nothing. I just dropped a coffee mug."

His eyes flew to the floor, and for the first time he saw the remnants of a broken mug surrounded by a pool of dark liquid. He knelt down quietly, gathering the pieces and tossing them into the nearby garbage can. Olivia reached for a dishrag and wrapped it around the wound as she silently watched him. When he finished, he turned toward her. "Thanks." Her voice was soft, tentative.

He nodded, knowing that she didn't really expect a response. _Let her make choices. You can empower a victim by giving her the ability to make one decision at a time._ "Is there anything I can get for you?"

She closed her eyes. "I just want a cup of coffee."

He nodded. "Okay, do you want to go in the living room? I can bring it out for you." _Choices. Allow them to take back control._ He paused, waiting for the inevitable protest. It never came.

"Okay." The single word was uttered so softly, he hesitated, wondering if he had misheard her. But as she turned away, he realized he hadn't. He poured two cups of coffee, and then carried them both into the living room. He slid down on the couch next to her, handing her one.

She drew the mug to her lips, forcing herself to swallow the bitter liquid. Slipping her fingers loosely around the handle, she let it rest lightly on the knees drawn up to her chest.

Elliot observed her, allowing the silence of the moment to communicate what he knew she wasn't ready to hear. His eyes followed her every movement, seeking to understand what everyone else had missed. The way her eyes darted back and forth without seeing anything, the way her slender fingers tensed around the handle of the mug in her hand--_it was familiar._ Maybe he did still know her. Maybe he could still read what she refused to acknowledge. He closed his eyes and exhaled quickly, praying for the strength to hold both of them up. "Olivia," he ventured slowly. "When's the last time you slept?"

* * *

The door slammed shut behind him. Fin's stride was confident as he crossed over to the counter. He flashed his shield. "Detective Tutuola, Detective Munch," he asserted quickly, gesturing over to John.

The woman behind the counter snapped her gum. "Tutuola, Munch? What kind of names are those?"

"What kind of name is Schaulzberg?" Munch deflected, reading the name plate at the desk.

She shook her head. "Good point."

Fin glanced down at the notepad in his hand. "We need some information on the owner of a box number 3246."

With an irritated glare, the woman fumbled through the paperwork in front of her. "What about him?"

"Let's start with a name." Munch looked up at her over his glasses, the expression on his face amused.

She ran her hand across the line. "His name's Roger Hammond."

Fin moved closer. "And what can you tell us about Mr. Hammond?"

She stared back at them stubbornly. "Do you think I keep track of everyone who comes in and out of here?"

Munch sighed. "Oh, come on, an enchanting guy like Roger, and you can't tell me anything about him?"

She hesitated. "Well, now that you mention it, he's always very sweet. I keep trying to convince him to take me out some time, but I guess I'm not his type." She shook her head. "Too bad."

Fin rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure he doesn't know what he's missing. Describe him."

"Tall, dark, handsome."

Munch looked back at Fin. "Great, he's a regular Prince Charming. What else can you tell us?"

She paused, wracking her memory. "Last time he was in, he told me he wouldn't be back for awhile. It's a shame too. I'm going to miss him."

"Yeah, I'm sure he'll miss you too," Fin muttered. "Anything in that box now?"

She shook her head. "Nope, he cleaned it out yesterday before he left."

Munch snapped back to attention. "He was here yesterday?"

She looked up in surprise. "Yeah, he came in right around one o'clock when I was coming back from lunch. He parked that van of his right up front." She lowered her voice. "I told him he better be careful or they'd tow it, but he didn't seem to care—insisted he'd only be in here for a minute."

Fin turned back to her, the expression on his face intent. "What can you tell me about the van?"

She shrugged casually. "Honey, I know nothing about cars. It was a van, and it was burgundy. That's all I can tell you."

Munch flipped a card at her. "Okay, thanks. If he comes back for any reason, you give us a call."

She raised an eyebrow. "You givin' me your number, sugar?"

Munch smiled back at her as they turned to leave. "Yeah, it's 911." As they stepped back out on the sidewalk, Munch paused, his eyes scanning the street before settling on his partner. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

Fin's lips curled up in satisfaction. "Yeah, there's a red light cam at that intersection."

_

* * *

_

When was the last time you slept?

Panic. Fear. Denial. The emotions all melted together into the only one she knew how to express. "We are not having this conversation," Olivia bit back, straightening ever so slightly in her seat.

Satisfaction spread across his face. It was far from an admission, but it was good enough for him. "Like hell we're not," Elliot returned. "How long, Olivia?"

She stared back at him angrily. She needed to escape. She needed to run. She needed to find some way to get away from his piercing glare because it was like staring within herself. And there were a hell of a lot of emotions she was nowhere near confronting locked away in that. She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't find the words to deny it. Somehow, pure exhaustion set in above all else, and she felt herself beginning to slip, beginning to fall. She tried desperately to stop it, to fight it, but it was too late. Tears sprang to her eyes. "Stop it, Elliot," she begged.

His voice was gentle now. "Olivia, how long?"

"I don't remember." The confession slipped from her lips before she could stop it. She closed her eyes, bracing herself for his response.

Elliot froze. When her eyes opened again, he saw a truth within them that scared him. She wasn't dodging the question. She wasn't fighting against him. _She couldn't remember._ "Olivia, why haven't you slept?"

Exhaustion overcame her ability to fight back the tears that spilled forward. Silently, they fell. She returned his gaze miserably, making no attempt to brush them away. "Do you know what it feels like to wake up and not remember what happened? I have no idea what he did to me in that time. I don't even know if I went with him willingly."

Elliot took a deep breath, praying that the truth would give her some closure. "Olivia, he slipped GHB in your drink. That's why you can't remember."

Her eyes widened as the truth settled in. Olivia had told herself she just needed time, that as the dust began to settle, she could slowly piece together the memories of that evening. "I'm never going to remember what happened."

He shook his head. "I'm sorry."

She let her head fall back against the cushion behind her. _She wasn't ever going to remember._ She wasn't ever going to know for sure what had happened. She would never have the ability to tell them. She would never have the ability to tell the jury. The reality of it terrified her.

Elliot hesitated. "That's not the only reason, is it?" He forced himself to look into her eyes, wondering if he was ready to hear the truth behind the fear that he still saw within them.

Olivia shook her head wordlessly. "I felt a needle prick my skin, and I lost consciousness. When I woke up, my whole body was numb. I watched him rape me, and I couldn't stop him. I couldn't control my own body." Her words were hollow, empty.

_We found Midozolam in her system…he used a small amount so she would have known exactly what was happening to her, but it would have made her out of it enough that she wouldn't have been able to fight back._

The words hit him with a truth that stole his breath away. As he looked into her eyes, he realized the truth. Finally, he understood…not the sheer terror that she had experienced in that moment, not the shame and humiliation that came from being violated, not the forced independence that had become the only way she knew to survive the pain. He understood what it took to break Olivia Benson. It was the complete inability to fight back that had shattered her, and it was the fear of it happening all over again that consumed her now.

For the first time, he realized that Olivia had been physically incapable of doing anything to defend herself. She had been forced to watch a complete stranger take away the one thing she had fought to control her whole life. And not knowing what that felt like or how to help her through it scared the hell out of him. "Olivia, I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."

She turned toward him slowly, confusion on her face. "Elliot, it's not your fault."

He stared back at her, wanting so much to believe the words that fell so easily from her lips, but unable to do so. _It was his fault._ It was his fault for not protecting her. It was his fault for not being there. And as they slowly closed in on the truth, he was beginning to realize that it was his fault she had been attacked in the first place.

"El, look at me." Olivia stared back at him, concern temporarily overriding all of her fears and insecurities. "You know this isn't your fault."

He did look at her. He stared into her eyes, and the fire reflected within them. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry. He wanted to shake her by her shoulders and tell her she had it all wrong. He wanted to hold her and tell her that she didn't have to be strong enough for both of them, but he realized he couldn't. He didn't have the strength to accept what she managed to do so effortlessly. So instead, he allowed her to take the role she had perfected through the years. Without a word, without a touch, he allowed her to comfort him, to soothe him. He relinquished every bit of his control to her, trusting her to be the one to hold both of them up.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

* * *

Elliot stared back at Olivia in silence. He was afraid to move, afraid to breathe. He watched her eyelids flutter shut, watched the tension from every muscle in her body slowly fade. He listened to the sound of her breathing as it evened out. His heart reached out to her as he watched her slip away into the slumber she so desperately needed. He swallowed hard as he watched her fading away into oblivion, watched the hurt and pain silently melt away. He tried to tell himself that it was what she wanted. It was what she needed. But the truth weighed him down with a guilt he'd never known before. She had trusted him, and he had betrayed her trust. As he watched her chest rise and fall silently, he wondered if when she awoke she could ever forgive him again.

Elliot felt a vibration from his jacket pocket. Before it could wake her, he snapped his phone open without looking to see the name displayed on the front. "Stabler," he whispered quietly.

He listened to the voice on the other end of the line before he finally spoke. "I stopped by to pick it up on my way over. You were right. It was just what she needed." He paused, only half-listening to the voice that spoke to him now. "Okay, thanks. I'll see you in a little bit."

Elliot flipped his phone closed, slipping it back into his jacket pocket. His eyes returned to Olivia's sleeping form, and he hesitated. Moving carefully so as not to disturb her, he slowly drew himself up to his feet. He wrenched his eyes away from her and let them fall on the two mugs left abandoned on the coffee table. Fighting back the unsettling guilt rising within him, he took one in each hand and crossed back over to the kitchen. He dumped its contents in the kitchen sink and with trembling hands, turned on the tap water. With tears swimming in his eyes, Elliot held a single mug under the running water, willing it to wash away the final traces of a betrayal that he would never be able to forget.

* * *

A desk drawer slammed shut followed by a shuffle of papers. Cragen snapped out of his reverie at the realization that the squad room was no longer empty. His eyes flew to the clock on his computer--5:54 am. Who the hell was here this early? He fought back a yawn. Planting his feet firmly on the ground, he stood up and crossed the room. He flipped open the blinds, allowing the bright light to filter in through the darkness. He blinked hard, forcing himself to focus on the form in front of him. He hadn't realized he had moved until he noticed that he was no longer standing in his office.

"Olivia?'

Her eyes jumped up, her body suddenly tensing at the intrusion. "Captain, I didn't realize you were here."

He stared back at her as if she'd grown a second head. "Olivia, what are you doing here?"

She barely even glanced back up at him, her gaze intent on the computer screen in front of her. "I work here," she mumbled absentmindedly.

"Olivia, it's 5:54 in the morning."

She finally tore her eyes away from the screen and allowed them to settle on him. "I know. I'm sorry I haven't been here the last couple of days." Her eyes darted back to the screen.

He cleared his throat. "You know, Olivia. You have plenty of vacation time. No one here will question you for taking it."

She straightened in her seat and glared back at him. "Are you questioning my ability to do my job, Captain?" The words were filled with defiance.

Cragen met her steely gaze. "No, but I do think you could use a few days off." His words were soft.

"Look, I appreciate the concern. Really, I do, but I'm fine. I don't want a few days off. I just need to be here. I need to work." She set her jaw stubbornly, daring him to refute her.

He came up behind her, his eyes settling on the image on her screen for the first time. "Olivia, we're going to find him."

She simply nodded in response, her eyes intent on the photos before her. She scanned over them before clicking ahead to the next page. Cragen stared back at her helplessly, the words for every argument in the world dying before they reached his lips. He remained silent, searching for the words to let her know that he still trusted her, but somehow he came up blank. He sighed reluctantly. "You know where to find me if you need anything."

She didn't look up, but he saw the defensive wall around her begin to soften around the edges. "Thank you." The words tumbled out as barely more than a whisper--two words masking what neither of them knew how to communicate. He nodded, sensing her need to be alone and turned away, tracing his steps back to his office.

* * *

The seconds ticked by slowly, but Cragen refused to stir from his post. His eyes followed her every movement. At 7:52 am, he watched her push her chair back away from her desk. She stood up, stretching her legs, and he watched as she turned toward the staircase. He exhaled slowly, somewhat relieved to find she had abandoned her desk, but unsettled by the fact that he knew she was now camped in the file room, digging through one binder after another filled with old mug shots that he was fairly certain would yield no clues to the answers she was so desperate to find.

As the clock continued its race toward the beginning of another day, he finally saw them approach. He slipped out of his office, motioning silently for them to join him within. Munch and Fin traded looks as they each took a seat.

"What's up, Captain?" Fin was the first to break the silence.

"From now on, this office is command central. No one speaks a word of this case outside this room."

Munch arched his eyebrow. "Is there some reason for the sudden surreptitious clandestine operations?"

Cragen drew in a deep breath. "Olivia's back at work."

They both stared back at him in shocked silence. "And you let her come back?" Fin's voice was incredulous.

"You know as well as I do, there's no stopping her once she's made up her mind," Cragen sighed, his words resigned. "So let's make this as painless as possible. Remember, she still doesn't know about the other victim."

"We're going to have to tell her," Munch interrupted quietly.

Cragen nodded. "I know. But let's spare her the pain as long as we can. Now what did you get on this post office box?"

Fin was quick to fill him in. "The box was cleaned out just before we got there, and it was listed under the name Roger Hammond."

The expression of anticipation on Cragen's face fell immediately. "Damn it. Did we get anything?"

Munch smiled. "Yeah, apparently our mysterious Mr. Hammond has quite the penchant for an up front parking space. We managed to pull the footage from a traffic cam at the closest intersection."

Cragen turned back to them, not sure if he dared to raise his hopes again. "And…"

The two exchanged looks again. "And I think you need to take a look at this."

Fin reluctantly handed a photo over to Cragen. "A dark red Chrysler Town and Country. License Plate J39-S1H8."

Cragen stared back at them. It took a moment for it to register. "Elliot drives a dark red Chrysler Town and Country."

Munch nodded. "Yeah."

Cragen wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer to his next question. "What's Elliot's plate number?"

"J39-S1H3," Fin noted grimly.

As the last digit rolled off of his lips, Cragen's head snapped up. "Are you positive the video has an 8, not a 3?"

"Positive," Munch conceded.

"Someone's gone to a hell of a lot of work to set Elliot up," Fin added.

Cragen closed his eyes before he finally spoke. "Did you run the plates?"

"Car is registered to a Bradley Jamison." Munch noted. "His home address is just a few blocks from Maloney's."

"Okay, go. I'll call Novak and get a warrant to search the home and the car." Cragen saw the look of hesitation. He sighed. "What is it?"

Fin turned around slowly. "Captain, do you think we should show the photo to Olivia to make sure?"

Cragen heard the words, but wasn't sure he was ready to acknowledge the truth behind them. He closed his eyes, seeing the calm, determined façade that had clouded Olivia's features only hours earlier. His words were quiet when he spoke. "Not until we're sure."

They accepted his judgment without question, silently filing out the door as quietly as they had come in. As soon as they were gone, Cragen lifted the receiver, his fingers fumbling for a number he knew all too well.

"Casey, Munch and Fin are on their way over. I need you to have a search warrant ready for them when they get there." He paused, waiting for her to take down all the info. As he was getting ready to hang up, he hesitated. "Casey, just one more thing." He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that he was ready for the truth behind his next request. "I need you to do me a favor…"

* * *

"What is Olivia doing at her desk?" Casey's words came out sharper than she intended as she burst into Cragen's office.

Cragen raised his eyes to meet hers. "Don't ask."

She raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "You're asking for a hell of a lot of faith in me right now." She thrust a packet of papers in his hand. "Do you want to tell me why I couldn't just give this to Munch and Fin when they stopped by earlier?"

Cragen stared at the packet in his hand. "I need to review it first." He remained silent, not willing to give her anything more.

She sighed. "Don, you can't keep me in the dark."

Cragen rubbed his eyes wearily. "Agreed, but Casey, right now, all I have are my suspicions. If I get anything to back them up, you'll be the first to know."

She started to protest, and then stopped, noticing for the first time the emotion clouding his eyes. "Make sure you do," she responded softly instead. "And Don, take care of yourself. Everyone around here needs you to be strong."

He nodded, knowing it was as close as they'd ever come to the words neither one of them could speak. "Thanks Casey."

He waited until she disappeared out the door before he turned his attention to the paperwork in his hands. There was always something to be said for knowing that the innermost instincts that pushed you forward in an investigation were justified. Sometimes it was fulfilling. Sometimes it was exhilarating. Sometimes it was just plain scary as hell.

Cragen blinked, hoping that the image before him might somehow mold itself into something other than the truth. But it was right there in front of him, and he had no idea what it meant. His eyes shifted to the phone in front of him. There was only one way to find out. He reached for the receiver, allowing his fingers to dial the number listed on the LUDS in front of him. When he finally heard the voice pick up on the other end, he hesitated, allowing silence to take over for what seemed like an eternity. Finally he spoke. "It's Captain Cragen. I need you to meet me here in an hour. We need to talk."

* * *

"Olivia, what are you doing here?" Elliot dropped the file in his hands on his desk, turning toward his partner.

"Working," she answered quietly, glancing up to catch his eyes. She waited for a moment as he settled in at his desk as if struggling for a response. Finally she took a deep breath. "El, thanks for being there when I finally fell asleep."

He froze instantly. Emotions he wasn't even sure he knew how to identify coursed through his veins. He wanted to deny it, he wanted to hide from it. But he knew he would never be able to look at her again if he did. He shifted in his seat, avoiding her gaze. "Liv, I don't know how to tell you this. But I…"

"Elliot." Cragen's voice rang out from behind him. "My office," he barked out.

Elliot turned toward him in confusion.

She nodded, smiling softly. "Go, we can talk later."

Hesitantly, he stood up and crossed over toward Cragen's office. "Captain, what's going on?"

Cragen didn't answer. His eyes were riveted on the scene before him. Elliot whipped around, following his blank stare and for a brief moment, he wondered if it was really possible for all time to stand still. He had no doubt that hell really could freeze over. And he had no doubt that the familiar figure who just walked in the door was the reason for the whimper that suddenly escaped from Olivia's lips.

He watched as the file in her hand flew to the floor, scrambling the photos and paperwork within it. Her face was deathly pale, her eyes frozen in horror. He recognized that pain. He recognized that fear. There was no way he could ever forget it.

* * *


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

* * *

Olivia blinked hard, forcing logic to somehow take hold over her body. When she turned around, Elliot was at her side, shooting a death glare at the figure who was now crossing over toward them. "Liv, are you okay?"

He saw her body stiffen, heard her breath catch in her throat, and he swore he had never felt such deep hatred in his life. Olivia's eyes sought his--needing security, needing support, needing something concrete to draw her back in. "I'm sorry, I don't know what happened."

Cragen had crossed over toward them, setting up an invisible barrier between Olivia and the approaching figure. "Tucker." The name rolled off of his lips with a newly defined sense of contempt. "I think you've come close enough."

Tucker glared back at him. "What's going on here?"

"That's exactly what we're going to find out," Cragen managed grimly. He nodded toward the interrogation room. "I think it's about time we sit down and have a little chat."

Elliot felt a sudden helplessness as he watched them leave. Cragen was cool, calm, collected. His eyes held a blank understanding, a silent confirmation that Elliot couldn't even begin to decipher. And it was then that he finally realized Tucker's presence had nothing to do with his suspension. Cragen had called him in, and Elliot had no idea why. He turned back to Olivia, searching for an answer that only she could provide. "Liv, why did seeing Tucker upset you so much?"

Her lower lip began to tremble. "I don't know."

_Damn it. Why couldn't she hold herself together?_ She rubbed her eyes, wanting so much to find the solace that she had somehow managed to uncover in a few hours of sleep. She wanted to find some way to explain why the presence of a man she had known for years completely unnerved her. _God, maybe Cragen had been right. Maybe she did need a break. She couldn't even begin to hold herself together._

"Olivia." Elliot reached for her arm, turning her back toward him gently. "You've been looking at mug shots all morning. Why is Tucker the one who set you off?"

Olivia didn't want to answer his question. She didn't want to think about why. She didn't want to think about what it meant. She didn't want to think about the fact that as much as they all despised Tucker, he single-handedly stood for the stability and morality they all needed in a world that was turned upside down on a daily basis. And so she did the only thing she knew how to do.

"Elliot, leave me alone." Without thinking, without stopping, she pushed him away from her. Snatching her jacket and keys off of her desk, she turned toward the door. "I mean it, Elliot."

_I mean it, Elliot._ The words hit him, scrambling every last remnant of the known into the unrecognizable. He was afraid to move toward her. He was afraid to follow her. He was afraid of the truth behind her response.

* * *

"What is Detective Stabler doing here?" Tucker raised his eyes to meet Cragen's harsh glare. "And why the hell do you have a rape victim back on active duty?"

"Olivia is one of my best detectives. It's her decision when she's ready to come back." Cragen paused. "And Elliot should have never been suspended in the first place."

"Says who?"

"I talked to your superior officer. You never had the authority to pull him out to begin with?" Cragen snapped.

The smallest flicker of acknowledgement slipped in before Tucker turned back, crossing his arms in front of him. "He's guilty."

"No, he's not," Cragen spat back. "Olivia cleared him. He's innocent, but somebody is going through a hell of a lot of trouble to make him appear guilty."

"If you're just going to go over my head, what's this little meeting about anyway?"

"I think you know exactly what this meeting is about. I think you know a hell of a lot more about this case than you're letting on."

Tucker leaned forward. "Are you accusing me of something, Captain?"

"Are you denying it?" Cragen retorted. He tossed the LUDS in his hand across the table. "Care to tell me why your phone number is on here?"

Tucker picked up the paperwork, skimming it over quickly. "I don't have to explain my personal phone calls to you."

"No, but you do have to explain why your phone number appears on the LUDS for a suspect five times in the last six days. Who the hell is he?"

Tucker remained silent before he finally spoke. "That's none of your business."

"If you even laid one finger on her, I swear to God I'm going to…"

Tucker stood up quickly. "Are you threatening me, Captain?"

Cragen moved closer, and Tucker grudgingly slid back into his seat. "Unless you want to be charged as an accessory, I suggest you start talking now."

Tucker stared back defiantly before he finally began to crumble. "It's not possible."

Cragen sat down across from him. "What's not possible? If you know something about this case, you have to tell me."

The expression on Tucker's face faltered, and a vulnerability that Cragen had never seen before came over him. "I'm sorry. I swear to God I didn't think he could ever do something like this. If I had known, I would have stopped him."

"Stopped who?"

Tucker's shoulders fell forward dejectedly. "My little brother."

Cragen's head snapped up. "Your brother, but…"

Tucker spoke before he had the chance the finish his question. "I changed my name when I joined IAB. I was tired of all the questions. I took my mother's maiden name."

Cragen nodded in understanding. "How the hell does your brother know Elliot?"

"His name is Bradley Garrett Jamison. Look it up. You'll figure the rest out on your own." Tucker let out a long sigh, leaning back in his chair. "And that's all I'm going to say without my union rep present."

* * *

  
Olivia held her hands in front of her steadily, watching as each clip emptied itself into the target in front of her. Dropping her weapon to her side, she stared back in satisfaction. Yet somehow, it did little to ease the unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Damn it. What the hell was wrong with her? She was falling to pieces in front of everyone in a way that she swore she never would. For once in her life, why couldn't she be like everyone else? Why couldn't she just find some sense of balance in her life? Why the hell couldn't she just find some sort of middle ground? She wanted that balance, she needed that balance, but she knew that she would never be able to find it because Olivia Benson never did anything halfway. She either managed to control her emotions, or she completely fell apart.

She had struggled her entire life with balancing the ends of one extreme or the other. As a teenager, she had shunned anyone who tried to approach her, preferring to struggle without friends than admit the truth about her mother. When that hadn't soothed the pain, she became the college sorority girl surrounded by a house full of girls that somehow still never quite understood her. When night after night of sobriety hadn't managed to make a difference, she had tried following in her mother's footsteps. But Serena Benson had never noticed.

When no relationship left a void in her life, she tried to fill it with one night after another of men who always wanted something more. She had spent nights with men far older than her years. She had spent others with those she would never admit were far too young. And she had found satisfaction in knowing that she had full control over it all.

She had taken a job that allowed her to spend every waking moment obsessing over her past without having to admit to anyone else that her life held a void that couldn't be filled any other way. She pushed herself into impossible, dangerous situations, never caring if it ended in her demise because without helping turn victims into survivors, there was nothing worth surviving for. She was the first to come in the morning and the last to leave late at night, and not one of them questioned it. Because it was what they all did. It was how they all survived. And damn it if she was going to lose that. Damn it if she was going to let one week of her life destroy that.

"Olivia?"

She turned to face the voice behind her. "A doc at the shooting range?" She arched her eyebrows suspiciously. "George, what are you doing here?"

"I heard about what happened with Tucker. Do you want to talk about it?"

She raised her gun again, hoping that each shot she fired may somehow soften the blow. "No," she whispered.

"Olivia, was Tucker the one who attacked you?"

Her eyes flew back to him, surprised at the directness of his question. "I said I don't want to talk about it."

"Olivia, you know I have to ask?"

"Damn it, George. I don't know who attacked me." She took a deep breath. "I can't explain it, but when I saw Tucker come into the squad room, there was just something about him. I just felt like I was in that basement all over again."

He accepted her confession, not pushing for anything more than she was ready to give. He tried to change the subject. "I heard you were finally able to sleep."

"Elliot talked to you about that?" There was a hint of betrayal in her voice.

George nodded. "I'm glad I was able to help."

Olivia turned back toward him slowly, confusion registering in her voice. "What are you talking about?"

He seemed startled by her response. "Nothing."

"No, George." Her eyes darted back toward him, and she tilted her head forward defiantly. "What are you talking about?" She searched his eyes, and then it hit her. She felt the truth slam into her body and suddenly she wished she'd never asked. Maybe ignorance really was bliss because the truth hurt far more than than the unknown. The truth was every bit as painful as the knife that had torn into her flesh.

* * *

"You son of a bitch!" Olivia tossed open the door of the locker room, not even caring if anyone else was in there.

"Olivia, what's wrong?" As soon as the words escaped from his lips, Elliot knew. He squeezed his eyes closed, slipping the t-shirt in his hand over his head. "Let me explain."

"To hell with explanations. Elliot, I trusted you."

Every bit of the emotion choked up in her voice tore him apart. He turned to face her slowly. "I just wanted to help you."

The laughter that ripped from her throat was bitter. "You wanted to help me?" she spat out, resentment rising in her voice. She moved closer, staring him down with a fury he'd never seen before.

"I can explain."

"I don't need an explanation, Elliot. I know what happened."

He reached for her hand. "No, you don't."

She jerked away. "Yes, I do. You let me sit there and tell you what it felt like when he drugged me, and the entire time, you're slipping Valium in my coffee?"

"Olivia, it wasn't like that." His words were desperate.

"Elliot, don't lie to me," she snapped back coldly.

He straightened up, crossing back toward her. "Fine, Huang gave me the prescription. He said that you might need it at some point. Olivia, when I got there and realized you hadn't slept in days, I knew there was no way in hell you were ever going to take it voluntarily. I was just trying to help."

"You weren't trying to help. You were trying to make decisions for me."

Elliot felt the sting behind her words, but refused to recognize the truth behind them. "Like you're one to talk. Come on, Olivia. How many times have you insisted we force feed a perp medication to get through a trial?"

He wanted to take the words back as soon as they slipped from his lips. The color drained from her face. And then he felt it--the blow that sent him reeling backwards, but didn't even come close to comparing to the one he knew he deserved. "Go to hell."

"Olivia, wait." Without even thinking about the consequences of his actions, he reached for her again.

She struggled out of his grasp. "Don't even think about it," she commanded coldly. "If you can't trust your partner, Elliot…"

_It's time to get a new one._

He finished her sentence silently in his head--words that had not been uttered in years, but stung more today than they ever had four years earlier. They were the words he'd fought like hell never to hear again after Eric Plumber, ones that had kept him awake night after night following Victor Gitano. They defined the one thing he'd always known would push him over the edge. He watched her with a helplessness he couldn't identify as she whipped around, stumbling toward the door.

"Olivia," he whispered, wishing so much that she was still there to hear the words he hadn't been able to give her. "I'm sorry."  


* * *


	17. Chapter 17

"Bradley Jamison! This is the police, open up." Fin pounded on the door again. Shooting a quick look over to his partner, Munch nodded.

"Open the door," Munch directed to the man who stood behind him.

The super fumbled with the keys in his hand. "Are you sure I'm not going to get in trouble for this?"

Fin threw the warrant at him. "This gives us permission to search the residence. Trust me; the only way you're getting in trouble is if you stand in our way."

The door slid open a fraction of an inch before Munch pushed it open the rest of the way. Fin turned toward the back of the apartment while Munch began to inspect the living room.

"We're clear." Fin's voice rang out from the bedroom. "No one's here."

Munch didn't bother to respond. He was busy rummaging through the desk when Fin came back into the living room. When he came up empty, he turned toward the nearby bookshelves.

"Where the hell's the basement?" Fin grumbled.

A look of confusion passed over the super's face. "Sorry to disappoint you, but this building doesn't have a basement."

Munch didn't bother to look up. He scanned the titles on the shelf in front of him before turning back to his partner. "Didn't you say this guy was some sort of psychologist?"

Fin came up behind him. "Yeah, why?"

"For a psychologist, he sure as hell has a lot of medical books. Look at this--the_ Practical Guide to Moderate Sedation/Analgesia, Anesthesiology…o_h,and look what we have here…"

"_GHB: The Natural Mood Enhancer," _Fin finished smugly.

Munch flipped it open, his eyes scanning through the table of contents. "Oh, look—Chapter 8: How to Obtain GHB."

Fin grabbed the book out of his hand, flipping to the chapter in question. "Includes kits, recipes, and purification techniques."

Munch rolled his eyes. "Great, everything you might possibly want to know on how to rape and terrorize women."

"Detectives?" O'Halloran came up behind them. "I think you better come take a look at this."

Fin nodded. He turned toward the CSU tech at his side. "Bag them all," he commanded before disappearing out the door. He stepped back outside the apartment to join his partner, turning toward the van to follow Munch's gaze. As soon as he was close enough to see inside, he could feel his heart pounding. "That's blood," he confirmed, his eyes glued to the stained carpet.

O'Halloran nodded. "We'll take it back to the lab, but I think we may have just found out how he transported Olivia from the basement to Elliot's apartment."

Munch nudged his glasses up ever so slightly to hide the emotion clouding his eyes. "Thanks Ryan," he added softly.

* * *

"You never told her about the medication?"

Elliot spun around at the sound of Huang's voice. He closed his eyes. "I was just trying to help her."

Huang glared back at him. "I didn't give you the prescription so you could trick her, Elliot."

Elliot stood up, crossing his arms over his chest. "You think I was trying to trick her? I was worried about her. You weren't there. You didn't see her."

"It doesn't matter," Huang argued heatedly. "Olivia has the right to refuse medication just like anyone else. You should have told her."

"She wasn't thinking straight."

"That doesn't give you the right to force it on her. What if something had gone wrong and she'd had an adverse reaction to the drugs?"

Elliot stared back at him, stubbornly. "I stayed with her. I made sure she was okay."

"You're not a doctor, Elliot. You forced her to take it without her consent," Huang bit back.

"What's the big deal? It didn't hurt her. She's doing fine now, and she actually slept. Why are you treating her like one of your patients instead of trying to take care of her?"

"Elliot, that prescription was written out under my name. She became my patient the minute she took that medication. Do you know what that means?"

Elliot stared back at him blankly.

George ignored him before rushing on. "It means that everything that happens between us now is on department record."

Elliot felt like someone had just punched him in the gut. Denial flared up within him. "You can't let that happen. George, she'll never talk to you about it again."

Huang turned back toward him. "Elliot, I don't have a choice. That's why I wanted you to tell her. It was her decision whether to let that happen or not. But you didn't let her make that decision. You made it for her."

"I didn't think…"

"Yeah, that's right, Elliot. You didn't think. Now, everything she tells me is subject to department scrutiny. If she's afraid that talking to me will put her job at risk, she's not going to talk to anyone. Do you get it now?"

Without another word, Huang spun around and stormed out. Elliot slid down in his seat, defeated. "What did I do?"

He hadn't realized he'd spoken out loud until he heard Cragen's voice behind him. "We've all made decisions we've regretted on this one."

Elliot turned toward him, too tired to try to process the implication behind his words. "I screwed up," he admitted. "Olivia's never going to trust either of us again."

Cragen smiled softly. "Then I guess it's your job to make sure she does. That's what being partners is all about, Elliot."

Elliot looked back up at Cragen. He nodded. "You're right. I have to go find her."

As Elliot turned to leave, Cragen surveyed the squad room to make sure he was alone. Slowly, he retraced his steps back to his office. He pushed the door closed behind him before turning over to snap the blinds shut. Once he was all alone, he crossed the office to his desk and pulled out what was left of the bottle of vodka.

He stared down at the bottle in his hands, his jaw clenched tightly, allowing the truth to settle within him.

_I screwed up._

Elliot's words tore at him, haunting him. Elliot hadn't been the only one to screw up.

_We've all made decisions we've regretted on this one._

Cragen closed his eyes. He'd never realized how much truth was behind his words until now. He had lost perspective. He had lost his strength. He had lost his ability to overcome a disease he had thought was no longer a part of who he was. And in doing so, he had jeopardized the biggest case of his entire career. All it would take was one overzealous defense attorney to turn their world upside down again. And Cragen had no doubt that if Bradley Jamison was the one who had attacked Olivia, Tucker would have the best defense attorney that money could buy.

Edward Tucker…the one man who could instinctively sense what no one would ever dare admit, and the one who had never made a secret out of the fact that he was fully aware of every detail in all of their jackets. And Cragen knew exactly what was written in his. He knew that if push came to shove and Tucker wanted to save his baby brother, he wouldn't think twice about putting Cragen and this entire unit on trial. And he could start with the fact that during the course of this investigation, Cragen had picked up the bottle again while on the clock. He dropped his head in his hands, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill forward.

How could he ever tell her that while she had the strength to fight back and admit the truth, he had been too weak to resist temptation? How could he ever tell her that she might never see justice because he had failed her? He reached forward, his fingers seeking the familiar. They molded around the neck of the bottle and he drew his eyes up to stare down at it, desperate to erase any semblance of its existence. There was only one thing left to do.

* * *

"The lab confirmed it," Fin announced smugly. "Blood in the van is a match to Olivia."

Munch scowled back at him. "Try not to sound so happy about it."

"Come on, this is good news," Fin retorted light-heartedly. "It means we finally have something on this guy."

"Yeah, but we still have no idea who the hell he is," Jeffries interjected. She dug through the stack of books in front of her. "And at least you're getting somewhere. Was it really necessary to ask them to bag every book on the shelf?"

"I don't know." Munch leaned over her shoulder, picking up one of the books from the stack. "_Conspiracies and Secret Societies…"_

"Yeah, and _To Kill a Mockingbird," _Jeffries snorted, tossing another one at him.

Munch caught it in his hands and shook his head. "Now that's a crime."

"Hey, that one is a classic," Jeffries argued with a smile.

"Are you guys getting any work done over there?" Fin complained, dropping the phone back down on his desk with a frown.

Munch crossed back over to his desk. "Yeah, like you're getting anywhere over here. Who are you calling now?"

Fin rolled his eyes. "Cragen. Where the hell did he and Elliot disappear to anyway?"

Munch raised an eyebrow. "Ten bucks says Elliot's with Olivia."

"Oh, hell no," Fin countered dropping the receiver back on its cradle. "You missed the fireworks in the locker room this morning. I didn't hear what it was about, but she was definitely pissed at him."

"That's a good sign." They both looked up at Jeffries in surprise. She laughed. "Come on, have you ever listened to those two argue? It's how they communicate."

Fin shifted in his seat. "This time was different. Liv looked like she wanted to kill him."

"Yeah, and tonight they'll call each other in the middle of the night, meet for coffee, and make-up," Jeffries laughed. "Trust me."

"Yeah, or based on what I saw earlier they'll end up in a fist-fight, and I guarantee I know who'll come out the winner," Fin countered with a grin.

Munch turned toward Fin. "That's no contest. Liv can kick his ass any day, and you know he won't fight back."

"Guys," Jeffries interrupted.

"Oh, come on, Jeffries. I figured you'd be on our side for this one," Munch insisted with a smirk.

Jeffries shook her head. "I'm not talking about that. I think you need to come take a look at this."

Fin peeked over her shoulder at the book lying open on her desk. "What the hell is this?"

Munch was completely silent as he surveyed the scrapbook in front of him. "I think the better question is…what the hell did we just step into?"


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

* * *

Olivia climbed the steps wearily, allowing her shoulders to fall forward slightly. "Why are you following me?" Her words ripped through the evening breeze, full of hurt, full of accusation.

The footsteps behind her froze instantly. Her lips turned up in satisfaction. Then as she knew they would, the steps quickened, closing the space between them in an instant. "I wasn't following you."

Olivia turned around slowly, planting her feet firmly on the ground. "Don't give me that, El. You've been following me for the last 20 minutes."

He hung his head slightly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…I just…I didn't know what to say."

"Fine, if you've got something to say to me, then let's hear it." She glared back at him, forcing her words to stay even, emotionless. He stared back at her blankly. She nodded. "That's what I thought." She whipped around, allowing each and every stride to carry her further away from him. She didn't stop until she reached the safety of the crib. She slid into the darkened room, eager for the reprieve the blackness provided. There was no one here to judge her, no emotions needing to be masked. In the darkness, she could escape from it all.

"Liv?" There was a soft knock at the door. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the silence to hide her presence. She heard him nudge the door open, heard him draw in a shaky breath. She could sense his eyes scanning the room. Then she heard the hesitation in his step, an uncertainty she didn't recognize. Slowly, she drew her eyes up, searching for his in the darkened room. The moonlight filtered in through the window, filling the room with a soft light. When she turned back around, he was at her side, sliding down beside her.

He handed her one of the coffee cups in his hand, a peace offering instantly understood without a word. The corners of her lips turned up in the faintest hint of a smile. She turned away quickly before he could read the expression on her face, lacing her fingers around the cup. "You have got to be kidding me."

"Liv…" Elliot drew in a quick breath. "I'm sorry. I had no right to do what I did, and you have every reason to be angry with me."

In the middle of an argument, Elliot Stabler was a lot of things--aggressive, arrogant, stubborn as all hell, but apologetic? Olivia fought to maintain her grip on the anger even as it silently melted away. Their partnership had long since become about finding that balance between too much fighting and not enough. It was a form of communication witnessed by all, but understood by none. Arguments came to end in a silence that begged of the other to understand what both were too proud to admit. Conversations became a hypothetical about what neither of them were willing to acknowledge. And somehow through every heated word, they understood what no civil conversation could ever communicate.

Behind arguments they were safe from the truth because admitting the truth meant admitting they were vulnerable--admitting the truth meant acknowledging the fact that what they did and what they saw affected them. It was easier to rely on false pretenses--easier to pretend that nothing had changed through the years than to try to decipher at what point the light-hearted banter that once propelled them through a case had dissipated, leaving behind a dull acceptance that every phone call could somehow manage to erode another tiny piece of themselves. Hidden behind the harsh and vindictive words was an acceptance that no matter what they had witnessed through the years, each new case brought them no closer to understanding.

Olivia averted her eyes away from him. "You're damn right I have every reason to be angry. Elliot, you drugged me."

"I know." Elliot tore his eyes away from her burning gaze. "I know," he repeated softly. "And I had no right to make that decision for you, but Olivia, you've got to know that I never meant to hurt you."

She heard the desperation behind his words, a silent pleading that went beyond the scope of the immediate conversation. She nodded quietly, allowing the simple words that flowed from her lips to communicate the rest. "I know."

He hadn't realized he was holding his breath until he felt it draining from his body. "So are we okay?" She shifted slightly, drawing herself up to her feet. Her footsteps were light as she slipped through the door to the locker room. _Shit. What had he said now? _He furrowed his brow, uncertain whether to let her go or follow her. But Elliot Stabler was never one to avoid a confrontation. He crossed the room tentatively, not quite sure what to expect on the other side of the doorway.

"Liv," he ventured softly. He stopped at her side, watching with amusement as with a flick of her wrist she turned the cup over, allowing the last of the liquid to swirl down the drain. "You know I got that just for you."

She arched her eyebrows, a knowing smile spreading over her face. "I know." She reached for the cup in his hand, drawing it up to her lips before he could protest. "Guess you need another one now."

* * *

The liquid swirled down the drain, washing away the final traces of a guilt that he knew could never truly be erased. Cragen squeezed his eyes shut to block out the image, fighting back an impulse that was suddenly all too real. Instead, he flipped open his phone, finally allowing himself to read the message displayed on its tiny screen.

_4 Missed Calls_

Cragen scrolled through all of them. Each and every one of them was from Fin. He closed his eyes, not quite sure if he was ready for the truth behind them. Before he could debate it further, his phone chirped at him again.

_1 New Message_

Fin again. Cragen pushed a single button to pull the text message up on the screen. It was now or never. He couldn't keep avoiding the truth.

_Cap, break in the case. Check out the scrap book on your desk._

He wasn't sure if it was curiosity or just pure exhaustion that finally won out, but he found himself re-tracing the steps back to his office. The squad room was abandoned which meant one of two things--either Munch and Fin were chasing down this new lead…or it had been too much for them to digest, and they had given up for the night. He wasn't sure at what point he had stopped knowing the answer. And he sure as hell didn't know which would be easier to handle. As much as he wanted to close the case, the part of him that was still stuck in a bathroom stall with his trembling fingers around a bottle of vodka didn't know if he had the strength to handle the truth. He wasn't sure he had the strength to handle being so close to the man who had somehow managed to tear their world apart…at least not without losing everything he had left.

Cragen reached down to pick up the scrapbook on his desk. One hand reached for the switch on the lamp perched at the edge of his desk while the other flipped open the front cover. The image that stared back at him was one that was eerily familiar. It was one that had come across his desk more than a decade earlier accompanied by a resume and file for a detective by the name of Elliot Stabler.

_Don, we think he'd be a great match for this unit, but we also need to let you know about the history…_

It was something he hadn't thought about in years. It was something he had shrugged away at the time, never considering he'd have any need to think of it ever again.

_I appreciate the warning, Chief, but I'm not going to judge him by something he had no control over. I'm sure as hell nothing like my father._

And now, it was something he'd never be able to forget again.

* * *

"What do you mean the blood report was contaminated?"

Munch flinched at her response. "I'm sorry, Casey. Warner said there was a mix-up at the lab while she was out. The technician processing it screwed up."

"So is it or is it not Olivia's blood in the van?" Casey demanded.

"It is, but Warner can't testify to the fact without reasonable doubt," Munch admitted reluctantly.

"Oh, this is great. Without that blood, we don't have a case."

Fin glared back at Casey, his eyes cold. "What do you mean we don't have a case? He drugged her."

"Look guys, I'm sorry," she sighed in return. "It's not that I don't believe you, but you're going to have a hard time proving that Bradley or Garrett or whatever the hell his name is drugged Olivia."

"What do you mean by that?" Munch ventured cautiously.

"The GHB was on her jacket. It doesn't prove that she ever ingested it. And even if it did, there's absolutely nothing to link him to the drugs."

Fin's head snapped up. "Sure there is. He's the one supplying the drinks. How else do you think she ingested it?"

"You can't prove that he's the one supplying the drinks. And it doesn't matter how I think she ingested it. What matters is what the jury thinks. And the defense can parade five witnesses in here that will all testify to the fact that Olivia was seriously intoxicated, and not one that can testify to the fact that she was drugged."

"There's got to be something you can do?" Munch pleaded with her.

"I can't even prove that Olivia didn't take the drugs voluntarily," Casey admitted reluctantly.

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute. There's no way that Liv would voluntarily take a date rape drug," Fin interrupted, his words grim.

Casey sighed, nodding her head in agreement. "Yes, I know that. You know that. But we can't rely on a jury to make that distinction."

"What about the book we found in his apartment?" Fin snapped.

Casey shrugged. "Circumstantial."

"What do you mean--circumstantial? Casey, that book is like a manual on how to make GHB," Munch agued.

Casey averted her eyes away from both of them. "And I've been to Olivia's place, and I guarantee that she has a book that contains that same information. If you follow your line of reasoning, you can say that Olivia drugged herself."

"You've got to be kidding me." Fin paced back and forth nervously. "Casey, you know that's not true."

Munch shot a look at his partner and tried to reason with her. "Okay, so if you can't do anything with the GHB book, what about the scrapbook?"

Casey looked up at them slowly. "It's one hell of a motive, but it doesn't give us any concrete evidence. If Jamison is who you say he is, his defense attorney can just argue that it's a part of his past too. Hell, Elliot could have the same collection of articles in his possession."

Fin stopped pacing. "Casey, you didn't see this book. It's not just a collection of articles and trial transcripts--it's a goddamn shrine."

Casey let her eyes fall to the ground. "And normally that would be enough, but this is no ordinary case, and I'm not about to let some judge throw the entire case out because some million dollar an hour defense attorney challenges our findings. Now, I'm sorry, but I need something more."

* * *

Olivia stared straight in front of her. When she spoke, her voice was quiet, contemplative. "You know I always thought that I understood what a victim was going through. I always thought a part of me knew what it felt like."

Elliot turned to look at her. "And now you realize that you never did?" He sighed. "Yeah, I know."

"No." Olivia shook her head. "Now I realize that I never will."

Elliot furrowed his brow in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Olivia spun the cup in her hand. "Elliot, I know what I felt like in that moment, but I can never compare that to what somebody else feels. I can't say that what I went through was any better or worse than what any other victim I've ever met experienced. The truth is--it was just different. It always hurts, but what I feel and what somebody else feels is never going to be the same."

"Liv, I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."

"El, you may not have been there, but you were what kept me going."

Elliot turned toward her, his eyes searching hers. "What do you mean?"

"El, I don't have anyone else in my life. I've been alone for as long as I can remember, and that's okay. But in that moment, I needed to hold onto something. I needed to hold onto someone."

"Olivia, if it weren't for me, you would have never been attacked in the first place."

Olivia tilted her head up, needing some sort of confirmation. "He wasn't after me, was he? He wanted to hurt you."

Elliot's head snapped up sharply. "Liv, how did you know that?"

"I'm a cop, Elliot. It's what I do." She sighed. "But El, that still doesn't make what happened your fault. If you blame yourself you're just taking it off of the perp, and that's exactly what he wants."

"I know," Elliot agreed softly. "It's working."

"Then don't let it." Olivia stood up, stretching her legs. "Elliot, don't let him win. Don't let him control you."

Elliot pulled himself up to a standing position. He reached for the cup of coffee in her hand, and frowned seeing it was empty. "How the hell did you get to be so smart?"

She grinned back at him, tucking a tiny piece of paper inside the cup. He unwrapped it carefully, reading the words printed on the paper.

_The human spirit is stronger than anything that can ever happen to it._

"A damn fortune cookie, El."

* * *


	19. Chapter 19

_**Author's Note:** Thanks so much to everyone for following this story. I really appreciate all of the fabulous reviews! And I especially want to thank EnforcerandAccuserFan for giving me the fabulous idea that I incorporated into this chapter. Hope you don't mind my using it... Keep the reviews coming! I'll certainly keep writing._

* * *

Chapter 19

* * *

"Melinda, go home."

Melinda tore her eyes away from the computer screen in front of her. She examined Munch carefully, noting the bags under his eyes. "Like you're one to talk," she tossed back wryly.

He sank down onto a chair across from her. "I just get in trouble when I go home. At least you have a husband and daughter there waiting for you."

She raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to continue. He remained silent. She sighed. "John, I pride this lab on not making mistakes. I don't know what happened." The hurt behind her words was evident.

"Melinda, it's not your fault. You weren't even here. Mistakes happen. And we've all made plenty of them since this started."

There was something in his voice she didn't recognize, an underlying tone that seemed to imply what she was far too tired to try to figure out. "John, I should have been here," she argued.

"There's a lot of things we should have done." Munch shifted slightly to peer around the desk at her screen. "What are you looking at anyway?"

Melinda hesitated. "Don't get your hopes up yet. A couple of years ago, there was a study conducted at the University of Illinois in Chicago. Now, we already know that GHB can only be tested in blood work for about twelve hours after it is ingested. But this new study stipulates that many date rape drugs including GHB and Rohypnol can be detectable by hair analysis for at least one month after consumption. After the hair follicles grow out, we can test for the concentration of 7-aminoclonazepan in the sample."

"Wait a minute. Are you telling me that we may actually be able to prove that Olivia ingested the GHB?"

Melinda nodded. "It's a possibility," she began, her words cautious. "But John, I can't guarantee anything. The research is still relatively new, and assuming we can even replicate the test results, we might have a hard time proving it in court."

* * *

Cragen's eyes were trained on the door in front of him. He hesitated, not quite sure whether to step forward or turn around and run like hell the other direction. He glanced at his wrist, willing the clock to suspend time until he could find the courage he needed to move forward. It continued its race forward as if silently mocking him. Okay, so divine intervention didn't seem to be working on his behalf.

Frantically, he reached for his phone. Surely, one of his detectives was in the middle of a crisis, an emergency, a break in the case. He should check in with them. He flipped his phone open. Nothing.No missed calls, no new voice mails, no awaiting messages. Absolutely nothing.

He should check in with Olivia--tell her that she was crazy for returning to work. He should send her back home, demand that she take time off. He should tell her he was worried about her safety. He should try to find some way to convince her that a protective detail was what she needed. He should argue with her about all of it.

Yet somehow he knew it wouldn't do him a bit of good because Olivia Benson always managed to take every one of his arguments and twist them into the unrecognizable. Somehow she managed to tear holes in every bit of reasoning until he found himself caving in to her every demand. And in the end, he never knew what the hell hit him. It was what made her so good at her job, and as much as he would never openly admit it, a part of him was proud of her for it.

"Are you coming in?"

Cragen hesitated, his eyes taking in the woman who stood before him. "No, I uh…I was actually just on my way out to take care of something." The words hung in the air, and he closed his eyes, willing her to believe the words that he knew could never be construed as the truth.

"I hear that a lot," the woman answered gently. "My name is Elizabeth. Come on in. I'll introduce you to the group."

"No, you don't understand. I've already been here. I've already been through…" He broke off miserably, his eyes seeking the floor with a new-found interest.

"And something must have brought you back," she probed gently. She put one hand on his elbow, gently propelling him forward. He wasn't sure what possibly possessed him to follow her.

As he stepped into the room, all eyes were immediately drawn to him. "Hi everyone. Let's get started. Today, I want to introduce you to a new member."

Cragen froze. He couldn't do this. Not again. He squeezed his eyes shut, and then suddenly he remembered why he was there. He remembered the determination within her even when she awoke in the hospital room to kick them out. He remembered the fire in her eyes when she sat at her desk, silently begging him to allow her to stay. He remembered her strength, her perseverance and how they somehow always managed to come out on top even when she managed to fall apart. He needed to find that same strength. He needed to find that perseverance. He owed that to her. He owed that to all of them. He opened his eyes again, staring out at the sea of faces in front of him. His voice was quiet when he finally spoke.

"I'm Donald Cragen." He took a deep breath. "I'm a recovering alcoholic, and I've been sober for the last twenty-seven years until last week…"

* * *

The door swung open silently. Edward Tucker shifted his weight uneasily. "How the hell do you know where I live?"

Fin glared back at the man across from him without really seeing him. He ignored the question. "Where's your brother?"

Tucker sighed wearily. "You shouldn't even be talking to me without my union rep present."

Fin stepped closer, his fists closing around Tucker's shirt as he pulled him in closer, pinning him up against the door frame. "I don't care about your union rep. I'm not here on department record," he sneered. "Where is he?"

"I don't know," Tucker managed quietly. The fire in his voice was gone, leaving behind nothing but complete and utter resignation. He made no move to fight back, no move to escape Fin's grasp.

Fin tightened his grasp, and then something within him snapped. Every bit of the rage he had fought back since the moment he had stood outside of Olivia's hospital room welled up within him. He had been afraid to go in, afraid to acknowledge the truth. He had let her down then, but he was not about to let it happen again. With his free hand, Fin reached for his Glock. "Don't give me that. He's your brother, and if you don't start talkin' now, I swear to God I'm gonna…"

"You're going to do what?" Tucker broke in softly. "You're going to single-handedly throw away everything you've ever worked toward, every conviction you've ever gotten. Tell me, Detective. Is hurting me really worth throwing away your entire career?"

Fin loosened his grasp considerably, but he didn't budge an inch. "I'm not going to stand by and do nothing while you protect your brother," he answered coldly.

"I'm not protecting anyone, and I sure as hell don't want to see your entire unit fall apart because of a case from more than twenty years ago," Tucker shot back. "If you think that more violence is going to help anything, you go right ahead and shoot me. But I can guarantee you it's not going to change a damn thing."

Fin felt the sting behind his words seeping in slowly, absolving every bit of the betrayal he wasn't quite ready to let go. He swallowed hard. "It might make me feel better."

"If you think it's going to make you feel better, you go right ahead and try it. Or better yet, ask your colleagues how effective their efforts have been. Ask your captain if going back to the bottle has made him feel better. Ask your partner if sleeping with his ex-wife again really made Olivia's statement any easier to handle. Ask Elliot if drugging Olivia made him feel any less guilty. Ask Monique Jeffries why she hasn't told anyone over at VICE about this case and stopped showing up for work over a week ago."

Tucker took a deep breath. "Hell, ask Casey at what point during this investigation the DA's office pulled her off of every other case because she couldn't hold herself together. Ask Melinda Warner if she regrets the fact that they sent her home after working a week straight with no sleep just to have some inexperienced lab assistant screw up one of the only concrete pieces of evidence you had. Ask George Huang at what point during this case he had to start scheduling visits with a shrink of his own. You people are so screwed up right now that if it weren't for the fact that I just witnessed her have a complete meltdown in the squad room the other day, I would say Olivia's the only one left still holding it together."

Fin's arms dropped to his side dejectedly. "What are you talking about?" The tremor in his voice did little to mask the astonishment he refused to acknowledge. For the first time, he really looked into Tucker's eyes. He saw within them what each of them had been desperate to keep hidden. Instead of the usual smirk of satisfaction, they were filled with an unsettling pain that shocked him as much as the words that had just tumbled from his lips.

The truth behind Tucker's words came crashing down--a truth that none of them had been able to acknowledge, but that all of a sudden seemed clear as day. _Jesus, how the hell had they missed it?_

How the hell had they overlooked the fact that Cragen stopped pushing them to keep going and started sending them home at night? Why hadn't any of them questioned the locked door and closed blinds that had once been left open? And what did it mean when this case managed to accomplish what even the death of his wife had merely shaken?

_Look tell the captain…I need a break. I'll be back tomorrow morning._

Munch's words reverberated through his head. The truth behind them was suddenly painfully clear--as clear as the tears that his dark glasses somehow still hadn't quite concealed, but that Fin had managed to pretend never existed. The man was consistent as all hell. His partner did not cry. His partner did not waver. His partner did not drive three hours to Baltimore for a booty call with his ex-wife. _Right?_ He needed to believe that. He needed to believe that there was something consistent he could count on, but the truth had been right there in front of him. His partner had cried. His partner had wavered. And his partner had disappeared that night and not come back as promised the following morning. _Shit._

The pieces began to slowly fall into place in his head…the fireworks in the locker room between Elliot and Olivia, Jeffries' constant presence in the squad room, Casey's unexpected trip to Huang's office and the way she had brushed him off when he had caught her on the way out the door, the call from the morgue that there had been a mix-up at the lab… hell, even the fact that Huang no longer came by to offer any assistance with the case.

The realization brought on utter panic. "What are you going to do?"

Tucker's eyes were still glued to the gun in Fin's hand. "That depends. Are you going to put away your gun?"

Fin's eyes flew down to his hand. _Jesus Christ. He had just pulled a gun on Edward Tucker from the Internal Affairs Bureau. _What the hell was he doing here? It wouldn't matter if Tucker dissolved the unit because he wouldn't have a job to go back to after tonight. Hell, he might not even be able to go back home after tonight. How long did they put you away for menacing in the first degree?

As if reading his mind, Tucker cleared his throat. "Fin, I'm not here to bust you, but put the damn gun away before someone gets hurt."

Fin didn't know how his body managed to somehow comply when his brain was still spinning, but he suddenly realized the gun was no longer in his hand. And hell must have really frozen over because Edward Tucker wasn't whipping him around and putting bracelets on his wrists. In fact, Edward Tucker had a look on his face that was actually sympathetic. Fin didn't even know it was possible to put those two words together.

"You really didn't know?" Tucker's words were incredulous.

Fin shook his head. "No, I didn't. Why the hell hasn't the Chief of D's suspended all of us? "

Tucker dropped his eyes to the ground. "The Chief of D's doesn't know anything about it." He cleared his throat. "I haven't told anyone."

Fin's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why the hell not? Isn't that the equivalent of a get out of jail free card for your brother?"

Tucker blew out the breath he had been holding. "Yeah, probably, but that's not the reason I joined this unit. He finally looked up at Fin, and for the first time, Fin realized that Edward Tucker actually had tears in his eyes. "I joined IAB to keep bad cops like my father off the street," he admitted softly. "And as much as you may be falling apart right now, there isn't a unit I trust more in the entire NYPD. I sure as hell don't want to be the one to break that up."


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

* * *

The door fell shut behind him without a sound. Cragen allowed the darkness to envelope him, sweeping away the last traces of a raw emotion he was more than happy to leave behind. He was too old for this. One of these days, he was actually going to go home at night. He reached for the lamp at his desk. One of these days he was going to… Cragen blinked as the soft light from his desk lamp illuminated the figure hunched over in a chair across from him.

"Bout time you got here."

Cragen winced slightly at the words. "Fin, what are you doing here?"

Fin raised his eyes slowly. "Couldn't sleep," he grumbled softly. He studied his captain's face carefully, watching for the slightest hesitation.

Cragen nodded wearily. "So you figured you'd come sit in my dark office?"

"Trust me. It's much better than the alternative."

Cragen raised his eyebrows. "Excuse me?" He waited for something more.

Fin stayed silent. Finally, he leaned back in his chair, an expression that Cragen didn't recognize suddenly crossing his face. "You don't want to know."

"Okay, you want to tell me what's going on?" Cragen ventured slowly, not quite sure if he was ready to handle the response.

"Not if I'm going to keep my job," Fin returned. He dropped his eyes, changing the subject quickly. "You ever go home?"

Cragen was too tired to pry. "There's not much to go home to." He shifted slightly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Besides, it's much more exciting to stay around here," he added dryly.

Fin rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I've had about all the excitement I can take for one night."

Cragen met his eyes and sighed, exasperated. "Okay, so is there a point to this midnight rendezvous?"

"Yeah," Fin began quietly. "This case is tearing all of us apart. I could really use a drink right about now." He studied Cragen's face carefully, searching for a response. "I thought maybe you could keep me company."

* * *

Olivia leaned back up against the wall, her arms crossed in front of her chest, mentally calculating each second that ticked by. It took exactly 17 seconds.

"A fortune cookie, huh?" Elliot's voice boomed out from the doorway, announcing his presence. It was a voice that she had come to know and love, one that was suddenly devoid of any seriousness. It was a voice that understood her, understood that far too much had already been said for the night. It was one that knew how to maintain the balance that had become their partnership--one that instinctively understood when further words were needed, or when they should be avoided at all costs. It was the voice that didn't disappoint, one that was exactly what she had expected.

She rolled her eyes. "Don't ask." His lips twitched in response, the beginning of a smile picking up at the corner of his mouth. He balled the cup up in his hand, heaving it across the room into the trash can beside the door.

She watched it fall with amusement. "Guess that means I'm not getting that back," she commented dryly.

For a brief moment, she waited for the biting comment that she knew would follow. He opened his mouth to speak, and then changed his mind. Elliot crossed the room toward her, sliding one hand onto the smooth surface of the wall behind her and leaning in until he was just inches from her face. "You owe me a coffee," he grunted instead.

A smile of satisfaction spread over her face. "Tell you what," she murmured softly. "I'll buy you another coffee just as soon as you tell me who she is." The words slipped from her lips cautiously. Her eyes darted over to his face, gauging the reaction.

He hesitated. _Shit.How the hell did she always manage to turn everything around before he even knew what hit him?_ He'd just played right into her hands, and the expression on her face made it clear that she was fully aware of the fact."What are you talking about, Liv?"

Olivia didn't budge an inch. "Tell me who she is--the other vic."

Every excuse in the world seemed to fill his head and yet simultaneously disappear before he could manage to grasp hold of them. Every reason for wanting to shield her from the truth suddenly seemed to disintegrate before he could remember what they were. He clung to the only thing he had left. "What other vic?"

"Don't give me that, El. I'm not some damn doll that's going to break if you tell me the truth. She shot him a murderous glare. "But I sure as hell am going to kick your ass if you lie to me one more time."

In that instant, he finally understood what it was like to be across from her in the box. He suddenly realized why it was that Olivia could push a confession out of a perp before he even realized he'd uttered a word. One look into those eyes, and he didn't have a fucking clue which way was up. "Liv," he broke in weakly.

"Elliot," she admonished in return.

"Leslie Carlton." The name tumbled from his lips before he could stop it. He squeezed his eyes shut. He was truly going to hell now.

"He didn't just rape her, did he?"

The words came from a gut instinct within her that he had long since realized should never be questioned, a gut instinct he always tried to deny and later wished he'd trusted to begin with. Elliot suddenly wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole, anything to spare him from the eyes that somehow managed to look beyond what was right on the surface to the furthest depths of his soul. Those eyes could somehow read what he had been determined to keep hidden, and they were nowhere near letting up. "No," he admitted miserably. His voice was quiet. "We found her body the day after you disappeared."

"How do you know he's the one who attacked her?"

It was the one question he'd been praying she wouldn't ask. It was the one question he wasn't sure he could answer, but at the same time knew he could never avoid. And even though he knew it would come back to kick him in the ass, it was the one question that gave him hope.

It was the question that reminded him that she was still just Detective Olivia Benson--his partner, and the one woman that would always have his back. She wasn't going to let what happened change her. She wasn't going to let it take control over her life. She was going to push forward unrelentingly until she found the answer they all needed, but somehow couldn't find the strength to look for. She was the one who was going to pull them all back together.

* * *

Cragen's heart seemed to skip a beat. He blinked, hoping, praying that somehow he had heard Fin wrong.

_I could really use a drink right about now. I thought maybe you could keep me company. _

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Cragen folded his hands in front of him on the desk, forcing himself to maintain a straight face. "I'm not going to condone drinking while you're on this case," he finally managed, the words filled with far too much vengeance.

"Why the hell not? What's so different about this case?" Fin shot back.

Cragen's jaw tensed instantly. "Everything about this case is different," he returned vehemently, rising to his feet slowly.

Fin stormed across the office, pushing right up against the edge of Cragen's desk. "The stakes are higher. That doesn't mean we should abandon all of our values. That doesn't mean we should just give up." As the words tumbled from his lips, he wasn't quite sure who the harsh words were meant for.

"Who are you accusing of giving up?" Cragen demanded, his face turning a shade darker as he fought for a control he had long since lost.

"I never said I was accusing anyone. What exactly are you trying to hide?" Fin's voice had risen to a level he wasn't even sure he recognized himself. He paused. "You're supposed to look after everyone in this squad. You're supposed to be there for us." His voice was uncharacteristically bitter, his words filled with hurt and pain.

"Don't you dare accuse me of not caring about my squad." Cragen's voice rang out through the room, reverberating off of the walls with a vigor that he recognized all too well.

A harsh laugh escaped from Fin's mouth. "Then prove it. Come on, Captain, where's the bottle of vodka in your office?"

Cragen's face turned ashen. He felt as if every bit of life had suddenly been sucked out of him, and the only thing that he possibly had left to fight against it was pure rage. "I don't need this from you." He glared back at Fin. "Get out of my office."

Fin straightened up, moving closer until his face was only inches away from Cragen. "We're not done yet," he answered coldly.

"What the hell is going on here?" Both men spun around to the figure standing in the doorway.

"Stay out of it, John," Cragen commanded furiously. "This has nothing to do with you."

"On the contrary," Fin interrupted, his eyes once again glued to Cragen. "This has everything to do with you, with both of you."

Munch stepped forward tentatively, the confusion on his face evident. As soon as he was close enough to step between them, he put one hand on Fin's arm, gently pulling the two men apart. Fin shrugged out of his grasp. "Don't you dare touch me."

"Fin, calm down. What the hell is the matter with you?"

"What the hell's the matter with me?" Fin spun around to face his partner. "What the hell's wrong with you? Since when does a late night booty call with Gwen take precedence over this case?"

The color drained from Munch's face. He whipped around, already on his way out the door. "That's none of your business," he snapped.

Fin followed him out. "I'm your partner. That makes it my business."

Munch froze, turning toward him slowly. "What I do in my private life is none of your business," he managed through clenched teeth. "I don't have to explain my sex life to you."

"I'm your partner. You should have trusted me. If you needed someone to talk to, I would have been there. You didn't have to run back to your ex-wife."

Cragen stepped forward slowly, his face still registering shock. "John, what were you thinking?"

Munch's calm demeanor snapped. "What was I thinking? It doesn't matter what I was thinking. My private life is not relevant to this job."

"But it is relevant to your emotional state while you're working this case," Cragen added, his voice rising again.

"Emotional state?" Fin snorted. "Now you're talking about emotional state--like you're one to talk. Come on, Captain. Don't you think that picking up the bottle again may have interfered with your emotional state just a little bit?"

"You started drinking again?" Munch demanded, turning around to confront Cragen. "And you want to talk about my emotional state?" He laughed bitterly. "Are you trying to blow this case?"

"Don't you dare presume to know anything about what I have and have not done," Cragen returned heatedly.

"I don't have to make assumptions. It's pretty obvious what you haven't done," Fin broke in. "You obviously don't give a damn about this case, and both of you are too concerned with how this has affected your own lives to even consider how it's affecting Olivia."

It was the last thing he heard before all hell broke loose. Heated words tore through the squad room, each one more vindictive than the last until no one individual voice could be distinguished from the rest. There was no hesitation, no time spent processing the words that spilled forth. There was only pure rage channeled by the desire to do what not one of them was capable of doing on their own.

"Stop."

The single word was spoken so softly they almost didn't hear it. Yet it froze each of them in their tracks. "Stop it." All eyes flew to the top of the staircase at the frail voice that somehow managed to communicate in an instant the emotion hidden behind every heated word.

Cragen was the first to speak. "Liv, I'm…"

"Don't…" Olivia shook her head, too many emotions within her to dare try to speak. So instead she turned back around, her footsteps quickening in a desperate need to escape. Elliot stood frozen at the top of the staircase, as helpless as the rest of them as she did the one thing that somehow managed to rip them apart and connect them all at the same time. Not one of them dared to speak. Not one of them dared to breathe. Not one of them knew how to find the words to tell her they were sorry. And so they just watched--watched her retreat, watched her run, watched her fall in a way that reminded them of how much they all had to lose.

* * *

"Liv." The voice that spoke was soft, gentle. Tentatively, he pushed the door to the crib open, pausing in the doorway.

"Elliot, go away." Her words were choked up, muffled by the pillow pressed up against her face.

"Liv, I'm sorry you had to see that. It's not your fault."

She raised a tear-stained face and shook her head. "Yes, it is. It's my fault for letting things get like this. It's my fault for letting him get too close. Jesus, Elliot, I'm a sex crimes detective, and I took that drink. I knew the risks, and I took it anyway."

He froze. He'd read the report. He'd listened to her statement. And yet, at no point had she ever mentioned what had happened in the bar. Not once had she ever given any indication that she remembered any part of that evening. "Olivia, why did you take the drink?"

She drew in a shaky breath. "Because Elliot, I was tired of being afraid. I was tired of being the one to hold it all together. For once in my life, I wanted to go out and not worry about how many women were going to be attacked that night. For once in my life, I wanted to believe that something good was out there--that somewhere, there was somebody who could look at the world in a different way than we do every day. And because damn it, Elliot, I thought he was safe. I wanted so much to trust in somebody that I believed him when he said he was a friend of yours because I thought if there was one person whose judgment I could always trust, it was you."

He wanted to reach out and comfort her. He wanted to tell her that she didn't have to be the one to hold it all together, and yet he wasn't sure how they could ever make it through any other way.

"Elliot, just go home," she whispered softly.

He turned toward her, his own eyes suddenly filling with tears. "I can't Liv. My apartment was destroyed in the fire. I don't have a home to go back to."


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

* * *

The squad room was completely still, the only movement, the occasional rustle of papers or the brief moment when someone would dare venture away from their desk. The silence that consumed them now was deafening. Whoever coined the phrase walking on eggshells had clearly never stood inside the 1-6 on a day like today because walking on eggshells required coexisting within the same space. Treading lightly involved some form of communication. Despite the physical proximity between them, the emotional barrier separating them now stretched into infinity. In the last six hours, they had somehow managed to redefine every boundary ever drawn, and all without speaking a word.

_This was pure hell. _

Fin shifted uneasily in his seat, letting his eyes briefly wander over to his partner. Munch's eyes were glued to the report in front of him. One hand reached forward, turning the page as if on autopilot. Fin let his eyes wander back to the file clenched tightly in his hands. For the fifth time in as many minutes, he re-read the page in front of him. It wasn't until he reached the end that he realized that none of the words had registered.

He sighed, the sharp expulsion of breath shattering the silence. Fin blinked hard, willing away the pure exhaustion that came from sitting at his desk throughout the night. He didn't trust himself to speak, to move. Hell, he was afraid to breathe because he was certain that any of the above was sure to cause Olivia more pain. With one single word, she had managed to shatter every semblance of resentment. With one single word, she had managed to steal every last breath from his body.

He had resigned himself to seeing the hurt in her eyes. He had expected to see anger. What he hadn't anticipated was the guilt. Complete, utter, heart-wrenching guilt.

Without a word, she had instantly taken on the responsibility for every malicious word that had escaped. Without a word, she had silently relinquished them of all accountability and placed it solely on her own shoulders. They had fucked up, and she accepted the burden for every one of their mistakes.

The file dropped from his hands as he drew himself to his feet. Fin turned around, allowing every step to carry him one step closer to the unknown. He knocked softly on the door in front of him. Without waiting for a response, he nudged it open and stepped inside.

Cragen looked up slowly. "Fin?" His voice was weary, drawn. It was the voice of someone who had resigned himself to the inevitable.

Fin squeezed his eyes shut. "Captain, about what I said last night…" He stopped, finally daring to look up into Cragen's eyes. "I'm sorry."

Cragen stood up, crossing the room toward him until they came face to face. "You had no right to disrespect my command. You had no right to challenge my authority."

Fin dropped his eyes to the floor. "I know."

"You had no right to say anything you did last night," Cragen continued. His voice softened. "But it needed to be said."

Fin's eyes snapped back up. "Captain," he protested lightly.

"I'm not finished." Cragen raised his hand to silence the protest. "You were right, Fin. And I'm sorry that you had to be the one to point it out to us."

Fin allowed the words to sink in slowly. He hesitated. "Captain, are you…" Fin trailed off, not quite sure how to finish the question.

"Yeah, I'm taking care of it," Cragen answered softly. "We've all been selfish, and it's about time we start working together again. Olivia deserves that much from us." He cleared his throat. "Now are we any closer to finding Jamison?"

Fin took the shift in conversation in stride. He shook his head in response. "We've got uniforms sitting on his home and work. Nothin' yet."

Cragen nodded thoughtfully. "Then haul Ed Tucker in here for a little chat. He has to know something."

Fin paused. He avoided Cragen's gaze. "Trust me. Tucker doesn't know anything," he muttered quietly.

Cragen turned toward him slowly, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I went to Tucker's house last night. He doesn't know where his brother is," Fin admitted hesitantly.

Cragen raised his eyebrow. "And you believe him why?"

"I believe him because I had a gun to his head when I asked," Fin admitted sheepishly. He averted his eyes away from those of his captain.

"You did what?" Cragen's voice rose quickly. Then he stalled. "Never mind. I didn't just hear that." He sighed. "Go. Talk to your partner. Make sure you're both on the same page." Cragen glanced down at his watch, realizing for the first time how early it still was. "Is Elliot still sleeping in the crib?"

Fin nodded. "I think he's probably the only one who slept last night."

"Not anymore," Cragen added. "It's about time he sees this scrapbook. Let's see if he can shed any light on this whole thing."

"Got it." Fin started to turn back toward the door. He froze, glancing back over his shoulder. "Hey, Captain?"

Cragen looked back up toward him. "What's up, Fin?"

Fin shifted his weight slightly. "I just wanted to say thanks."

For the first time, Cragen smiled. There was still a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Don't thank me yet."

* * *

The door shut quietly behind him. Huang paused, surveying the figure who had just stepped through the door to his office. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Well, believe me, this wasn't exactly on my list of places to go for the day," Munch returned quickly. His eyes darted across the room with a newfound interest. He finally settled into a seat across from Huang.

"Then what brings you here?"

"Isn't that your job?" Munch sighed. "You know to determine what makes me do the things I do."

"Usually," George agreed. He set down the pen in his hand. "But why don't you tell me why you think you're here."

"Because no one in my damn squad can mind their own business. And since every other shrink I've talked to seems so interested in talking about my sex life, I figured why the hell not."

"Do you think your job is affecting your sex life?"

"No," Munch shot back quickly. "I don't, and I'm tired of people pretending that it does. I was just as miserable alone before I took this job as I was after I took it."

"Okay, fair enough." George took a deep breath. "And what about this case?"

Munch hesitated. "What about this case?"

Huang held his gaze as he spoke. "You've been alone for years, John. A case like this affects you. It makes you want to reach out to something familiar. Maybe someone familiar?"

Munch shifted uneasily in his seat. "Is that a question, Doc?"

"Tell me about your ex-wife."

"Wives," Munch corrected him. "You're going to have to be more specific."

Huang searched his face carefully. "That's right. There are four of them, correct?"

"Yeah, why bother stopping after the first heartache?"

George nodded. "Because we want to have hope that true love is really out there."

Munch snorted. "Yeah, after number two, you think the third time is the charm. After number four, you realize you should have stopped while you were ahead."

"And yet you've never stopped loving her."

Munch froze. "Stopped loving who?"

George allowed a small smile to cross his face. "Your first wife. What was her name?"

John hesitated before he finally answered. "Gwen." He sighed. "Her name was Gwen."

"Why do you think you went back to her now?" Huang slid the question in, carefully gauging his reaction. He was rewarded with a look of surprise on Munch's face.

"It's not the first time," Munch admitted defensively.

George nodded. "Okay. But why now? What is it about this case that made you go back again?"

"I didn't want to be alone." The words slipped from his lips as barely more than a whisper.

"Why? Tell me, John. Why are afraid of being alone now?" As soon as the question slipped from his lips, George suddenly realized the answer. He drew in a breath sharply.

John raised his eyes slowly. They were filled with pain and uncertainty. "Because I don't want to turn out like my father."

* * *

"I'm not my father."

Cragen was taken aback by the harshness of the response. He stood up, stepping around his desk toward Elliot. "I never said you were. But Elliot, you need to tell me what happened."

"Captain, why does it matter? That was more than twenty years ago."

"It matters to someone." The expression on his face was grim. Cragen tapped his fingers restlessly on the scrapbook gripped tightly in his hands. Finally, he handed it over to Elliot and watched as he flipped open the first page. He watched as every bit of color drained from his face. Elliot thumbed through, his eyes scanning each and every page before he finally dared to try to find his voice. "Where the hell did you get this?"

"We found it in our suspect's apartment. Now where is your father?"

Elliot sought to make sense out of it all. The images in front of him were swimming inside his brain, an endless cycle that he had tried for years to forget. He closed his eyes. "My father's dead." He raised his head again, his words suddenly defensive. "Why haven't you told me you had a suspect? Who the hell is he?"

"His name is Bradley Garrett Jamison."

"Jamison," Elliot repeated. It took a minute for the name to register. "But that's my father's old partner. I don't understand. I thought he was dead."

"Alex Jamison is dead," Cragen confirmed. "He had two sons--Edward and Bradley." Cragen tossed the report at him.

Elliot caught it between his fingers. He scanned it quickly. "Wait a minute. Edward Jamison is Tucker?"

"He filed a legal name change when he joined IAB. But Tucker's not what I'm worried about. His baby brother is the real problem here."

Elliot turned toward his captain. "What the hell does his brother want with me?"

Cragen took a deep breath. "From what I can see in this scrapbook, it looks like he wants revenge. And if your father's not around, he's going to settle for the next best thing," Cragen managed.

Elliot felt himself sliding back down into the chair. "But why me? I have three brothers and two sisters. He singled me out. Why?"

"You're the only cop, Elliot." Cragen turned to face him, his face grim. "It wasn't Kathy he was after. He was using her to get as much information as he could on you. He wanted Olivia to trust him in that bar. He's been after her the whole time."

"Olivia has nothing to do with my father. Why her?"

"Because she's your partner. He's testing you. He wants to find out how far you'll go to defend your partnership. And Elliot…" Cragen hesitated. "He's not going to stop until we catch him."

* * *

Olivia's eyes scanned the map in front of her. "What are all these dots?"

Munch walked through the door and nearly dropped the file in his hand. "Olivia, what are you doing here?"

"My job," she shot back. "And somebody better start filling me in on the details of this case." She shot him a deathly glare. "And don't you dare try and tell me I can't handle it."

Fin sighed. He shot a helpless look at his partner. Munch shrugged in return and grudgingly pulled out a single sheet from the file now clutched tightly in his hand. "Liv, do you recognize anyone here?"

Olivia scanned the photo line-up. Her heart skipped a beat. "Number two," she whispered. Her throat was suddenly dry. She swallowed hard, straightening her shoulders. "Who the hell is he?" she demanded her voice hardening.

"Liv," Fin interrupted. "Come on, why don't you…" He reached for her arm, gently turning her away from the map.

She shrugged him away violently. "What's his name?" she repeated.

"Bradley Garrett Jamison."

Fin's eyes widened. He turned to his partner in disbelief. Munch rolled his eyes. "Trust me. I know women. And there's no way in hell you were getting out of that one."

Olivia tilted her head up defiantly. "Where is he?"

Fin sighed. "We can't find him." He pointed toward the dots on the map reluctantly. "Here's his home and work address. We have uniforms sitting on both places, but so far, no sign of him or the crime scene."

Olivia added one more dot to the map. Munch stepped closer. "That's Elliot's apartment," he noted quickly. Olivia nodded absentmindedly. She closed her eyes.

_She blinked hard, fighting to maintain her grip on consciousness. Everything around her was black. Sheer, utter panic gripped her. She couldn't move, she couldn't see. She felt her body shifting, slumping against something hard, and for the first time she realized she was moving. A right turn. Two more stops. A left turn. Two more stops. And then nothing._

Olivia opened her eyes, locating a new spot on the map. "What's right here?"

Munch stepped around her, peering over her shoulder. "That's just the dress shop. Some place called Estello's."

_It was dark, the only light filtering in from between the slats of a boarded up window, the only sound--a faint humming…a humming like a sewing machine._

Olivia whirled around. "John, do they make the dresses at the shop?" Her voice was suddenly sharp.

Munch hesitated. "I would assume so. The owner is some guy named Anthony Estello. He was working on a new design when I came in."

Fin was fumbling through the paperwork at his desk. "Wait a minute, John. What's that name again?"

Munch turned toward him. "Anthony Estello. Why? Does that mean something to you?"

Fin stopped. "Yeah, how the hell did we miss that? He tossed the file across the desk to his partner. "Bradley Jamison served six months at Rikers. Take a look who his cellmate was?"

Munch scanned the paperwork quickly. The corners of his lip turned up in a grim smile. "Anthony Estello."


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

* * *

"Olivia, you're not going."

Olivia froze, her eyes hardening as she returned her captain's stubborn glare. "What do you mean I'm not going? You're making me ride my desk?" Her voice was suddenly sharp, biting.

"I'm not putting you on desk duty," Cragen returned softly. "I'm sending you home."

"I am not going home. You need somebody there who can tell you what you're looking for. I can do that, Captain. I can handle it." Her eyes sought his, begging him, pleading for him to understand.

"Olivia, you've already given us your statement. CSU will be there. If he left any evidence, we're going to find it." Cragen's voice was reassuring, but he felt the resistance behind it weakening.

"You don't think I can handle it?" Olivia laughed bitterly. "You think I'm going to just fall apart, don't you?" Her voice rose slowly, each word filled with accusation and a hurt he had no idea how to erase.

Cragen reached for her arm to comfort her, to somehow help her to understand. "Olivia, nobody's saying…"

"Get off of me," she hissed, sidestepping his advances violently. She whipped around to face him, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "Stop making excuses. If you trusted me, you would let me do my job." Her words were filled with a mixture of betrayal and a fury he had never heard from her.

"Olivia, you're too involved in this case. You need some distance."

"I don't need some distance," she spat out. "I need closure. And I'm sure as hell not going to get it while I'm waiting around for you to find him."

"Olivia…" Cragen blinked hard, fighting for the words to tell her what he knew she could never accept. It was never enough. It didn't matter what he said. Nothing in his words could ever come close to protecting her. Nothing in his words could hide a truth that stung far more than the words that had just escaped from her lips. This wasn't just an ordinary case. As much as he wanted to deny it, it wasn't just about finding the perp. It was about protecting her. And he was desperate to believe she didn't need that protection. He was desperate to cave in to her demands because it was easier than admitting that she had become the victim. It was easier to allow her to step up to the role that she had always assumed than to admit this was the one time he had no choice but to strip that role away from her.

He wanted to empower her, wanted so much to give her back the strength and confidence she was desperately seeking. He wanted to give her back the sense of control she had lost. But doing so would only hurt her further. Doing so would put everything she had left at risk. As much as he might try to deny it, the only way left to protect her was to do the one thing that would truly turn her into a victim. And he was afraid of what that would do to her. He was afraid of what that would do to all of them. It was a hell of a lot easier to pretend there was no distinction between who she had once been and the fractured remains of the woman who stood before him now than to acknowledge at what point the line between the two had blurred.

Olivia could feel her lower lip trembling, could somehow sense his crumbling resolve. "Captain, you need me there." Her voice began to break. "This is my job. Now you've said it before--we don't get to pick the vic." She paused, drawing in a shaky breath. "My past has always been a part of this job, and that's never going to change. This is no different."

"Olivia, you know that's not true," Cragen protested quietly. "This isn't just your past."

She bit her lip, willing away the physical reminder of the weakness she was so desperate to mask. "No, you're right. This is my life we're talking about. And I'm not letting him get away with it. I want to be there."

All of the emotion hidden behind her words slammed into the harsh reality of the moment, of the truth behind what she was asking of him. Every situation he'd ever faced, every decision he'd ever made somehow paled in comparison to the one that stood before him now. Cragen forced himself to draw in a deep breath, fighting for every last bit of strength. "Olivia, go home. You've done all you can for today. I'm not sending you out on this search. This guy is after you for whatever reason, and I want you someplace safe."

Olivia stepped back, the look of shock on her face somehow reflecting a mixture of emotions he made no attempt to identify. "I can't believe you're sending me home."

Cragen sought out her eyes, needing her to somehow understand what he could never find the words to communicate. "Olivia, I'm not about to lose you again. Go home. Do what you need to do. You'll know when you're ready to come back."

* * *

"Anthony Estello, open up!" Fin pounded on the door in front of him one more time. He shot a look at his partner. Before he could step toward the door again, it slid open a crack.

"Who the hell are you?"

Elliot didn't allow Fin the opportunity to respond. He pushed him aside, allowing the door to swing open the rest of the way as he forced his way inside. "Detective Stabler," he announced, flashing his shield. He turned around slowly, watching as Munch and Fin followed him inside.

Anthony's eyes darted back to the one familiar figure still standing in the doorway. "Detective Munch," he managed weakly. "Has there been a break in the case?"

Elliot approached him slowly, his eyes hardening. Anthony retreated back away from him until his back was to the wall. Elliot's lips twisted upward in satisfaction. He reached for Anthony's arm, whipping him around in a single motion that left him gasping with pain. "There's going to be a break in your arm if you don't start talking to me now."

The eyes that stared back at him now were begging, pleading. "Let go of me."

"Is that what Leslie Carlton said when you led her to her death?" Fin added, sidling up beside Elliot.

Anthony's eyes widened. "What are you talking about?" he gasped, his face contorted in pain.

"I don't like it when people lie to me," Munch commented, observing from afar. "And as you can see, Detective Stabler here doesn't like it when someone hurts his partner."

The eyes darted back and forth between each of them. "I don't know anything about that." Elliot's grip tightened, twisting his arm a little further. "Okay, okay," Anthony whimpered.

Munch's eyes darted quickly over to Fin. "Elliot," he cautioned softly.

Elliot didn't respond. His eyes were focused straight ahead. He didn't see Anthony Estello anymore. All he saw was pure, raw, physical pain clouding her eyes and bruises lining her body. All he heard was her voice, a voice filled with a vulnerability he had never known in her.

_Yes, it is. It's my fault for letting things get like this. It's my fault for letting him get too close. _

The words reverberated in his head. My fault. _Olivia's_ fault. No, it wasn't her fault. It was his. It was his fault for being so damn selfish and not seeing how the Bennett case was affecting her. It was his fault for allowing her to take care of him when she desperately needed someone to take care of her. It was his fault for not being there. How could she possibly think that it was her fault when it was so clearly his own? How could she possibly accept the responsibility for where he had screwed up? It was his responsibility to sense when she was falling and to be there to catch her. It was his responsibility to always have her back. It was his job to protect her. And he had failed miserably. Not only had he not protected her, he had made her more vulnerable.

_Elliot, I thought he was safe. I wanted so much to trust in somebody that I believed him when he said he was a friend of yours because I thought if there was one person whose judgment I could always trust, it was you._

His eyes stung with tears. His breath caught in his chest. He pushed harder, wanting so much to take away the tremble in her voice, the pain in her eyes. The image in front of him began to blur. He could vaguely make out the sound of voices ringing out with alarm, but he pushed them away. He pushed them further and further away until her voice was the only one that remained.

_If there was one person whose judgment I could always trust, it was you. _

It was you. It was him. It was…

"Elliot." A rough hand grasped his shoulders. "Elliot, stop it." Elliot blinked hard. He turned toward Fin, blinking back tears. And then he saw the man in front of him for the first time. His face was white, his eyes filled with terror as he cowered back up against the wall. Elliot staggered back away from him, fighting for control.

"I don't have any idea what happened to Leslie." Anthony's voice was still shaking.

"You're going to have to do better than that," Fin sneered. "Come on, Anthony. Are you telling me that it's just a coincidence that your dear old prison buddy Jamison attacked Leslie Carlton?"

Anthony's eyes widened. "Jamison attacked Leslie?"

"Don't even try to tell me you didn't know. Jamison attacked Leslie just like he attacked another woman." Munch stepped closer. "Only this one made it out alive, and she seems to recall being taken to this building during her attack."

"And if you think your arm is hurting now, you just wait till we get you to Rikers. Prison guards don't like it when you help assault a fellow officer." Fin's voice was cold.

"Whoa, wait a minute. I didn't assault anyone. You can't take me back there." Anthony backed up away from them, his voice tinged in desperation.

"Sure we can. It's called accessory to rape and murder. Add that on to the kidnapping charge, and we can put you away for a good long time." Munch crossed his arms over his chest.

"Yeah, and I'll haul your ass in right now unless you start talkin'," Fin interjected.

Anthony moved a little further away from Elliot. "I don't know anything about it, I swear. But if Jamison's your guy, I might be able to help you out with where he took her."

For the fist time, Elliot snapped back to attention. "Where?" he demanded.

Anthony's eyes darted back and forth nervously. "A few months back, Jamison calls me up out of the blue. He said he needed a favor. He was looking for some place to store some stuff. I had an empty basement here at the shop. It has its own private entrance. I gave him a key."

The three of them exchanged looks. "And you didn't bother to check and see what he had down there?" Munch prompted sarcastically.

Anthony shook his head. "Why would I care? I have no reason to go down there. We used to store extra bolts of fabric there, but there's too much moisture this time of year. It was bad for the fabric."

"Yeah, well raping and murdering your customers is bad for business," Fin shot back.

"I told you I never raped or murdered anyone." Anthony wiped away the bead of sweat forming on his brow. "What do I have to do to convince you of that?"

"Are you willing to let us take a look around down there?" Elliot demanded.

Anthony hesitated. "I told you. I have no idea what he's been doing down there. If he was involved in something, I don't want to know about it."

"It's a little late for that." Munch allowed his voice to soften. "But if you help us out, it will look good for you."

Anthony turned toward Elliot. His shoulders slumped forward. "Fine, just….you stay away from me. I didn't hurt anyone." He sighed, shuffling through the key ring on his belt. "You can't get down there through the store," he insisted. "The only way down is through the back."

* * *

The click of the deadbolt as it slammed into place resounded through the empty apartment. Olivia braced herself against the door, slowly allowing the false bravado to dissipate in the privacy of her own living room. Cragen's words were still vivid in her memory.

_I'm sending you home._

Olivia closed her eyes as if to block out the harsh words she had spat back at him. She had thrown every excuse she could possibly think of back at him. She had fought like hell for independence, for respect, for the illusion that nothing had changed. She had done exactly what he would have expected from her. And for a brief moment, she thought she saw him falter.

She had come to him prepared to demand what she knew he would never willingly give. She had come to him ready to fight for what she was sure he would never allow. She had counted on him to counter every demand she made. But she hadn't counted on shaking his ability to distinguish right from wrong. She hadn't counted on almost winning. And as she watched him falter, the emotion that tore through her nearly broke every last bit of resolve.

She hadn't counted on Cragen not fighting back. He had held her eyes as if silently giving in to her. She had demanded something of him, something that all of a sudden she realized he might actually give her.

And the reality of it had terrified her because she needed him to stand his ground. Olivia had never known how to communicate her needs, had never learned to accept help without admitting dependence on someone else. So instead, she relied on instinct to satisfy what she was too afraid do openly admit.

She relied on what she had known he would never give her. She fought because she didn't know any other way of admitting that she hadn't been ready to come back in the first place. She fought because she needed someone to tell her that she didn't have to relive those memories by going back. She fought because she needed assurance that when she was ready to come back, there would be a place for her. She fought because she needed something to hold onto.

* * *

Elliot held onto the railing as if his life depended on it. He had known even before Fin hit the light what they would find. He had instinctively sensed what had once been her presence. His eyes scanned the dimly lit room, seeking out a confirmation he no longer needed.

"It's exactly like Liv described it," Munch echoed quietly.

"Come on." Fin nudged them forward gently. He allowed his eyes to take in the mostly barren room. "Liv wasn't kidding when she said there was nothing down here," he mumbled.

"Not just nothing," Munch observed. "No one either. This place is completely empty. I don't think he's been here in days."

Munch crossed over to the bed. He knelt down closer, grabbing his flashlight to get a better look. "Dried blood on the bed," he noted softly.

Fin hollered at him from across the basement. "Hey, check this out. There's another room back here."

Munch quickened his step to follow his partner. "Well, what do you know? A blue ratcheting strap. We'll take this back to the lab, but I'm sure it's a match to the fibers found on Leslie's body."

"And a miniature pharmacy." Fin raised his voice, "Hey, Elliot, come take a look at this."

There was no response from the other room. "Elliot!" Munch repeated. He sighed before turning back around and retreating back into the other room. He hesitated at the doorway. "Elliot?" His words were cautious this time. Elliot turned toward them slowly.

Fin's footsteps were uncertain as he crossed over toward him. "What is it, Elliot?"

When Elliot raised his eyes to meet theirs, they were filled with tears. "It's Liv's necklace," he managed quietly. "I…never really looked at it. I know she wears it all the time, even when she sleeps. I never knew it meant anything."

Munch's hand closed around the thin chain, holding it out for both of them to see. "Fearlessness," he read out loud, his voice somber.

Elliot stared straight ahead. His voice caught in his throat. "She was my partner, and I never once asked her about it. I never asked her why she wouldn't take it off during a case. I never asked her why it was so important to her. I should have known."

"Elliot, you're a good partner." Fin tried to reassure him, but he could already see him shutting down. He exchanged looks with Munch.

"Don't tell me I shouldn't have noticed," Elliot shot back. "A good partner would have picked up on that. A good partner would have noticed that she was hurting after the Bennett case. A good partner would have made sure she got home safe."

"Elliot, what happened isn't your fault. You can't watch over her twenty-four hours a day," Fin protested.

Munch remained silent, his eyes drawn to an object on the floor beside the bed. He turned toward both of them slowly, the look on his face grave. "Elliot, does Liv have a protective detail?"

Elliot snapped back to attention. "No, why?"

Munch shifted slightly. "Because here's her purse."

Elliot grabbed the bag out of his hands, dumping the contents out in front of him. He drew in a breath sharply. "Where are her clothes?"

Munch had already checked them. "They're not here Elliot. They're missing."

Fin turned toward him slowly, alarm in his voice. "What's missing?"

Munch's voice was grim. "The keys to her apartment and her driver's license…"

"With the address to her apartment," Fin finished. "Did anyone call a locksmith when Liv came home from the hospital?" He searched his memory frantically. It was standard protocol, but nothing about this case had been standard. They hadn't done anything by the book.

Munch shook his head sheepishly. "No, we were all too worried about everything else going on. We never thought he'd go after her again."

Elliot was absolutely silent. Cragen's words echoed through his head.

_Elliot, he's not going to stop until we catch him._

Munch interrupted his thoughts. "Hey guys, I think we've got a bigger problem."

Fin finally dared to look over toward him. He was holding up an empty holster. He took a deep breath. "Yeah, like where's her gun?"

* * *


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

* * *

Olivia drew her gaze up slowly. Her arms wrapped around her knees as if to protect herself from a chill no one else could feel. From across the room, the first signs of an approaching storm tore at the window pane as if somehow mocking her. A bright flash of light suddenly illuminated the sky.

_Olivia squeezed her eyes closed to block out the bright flashing light. She felt the ruler pressing up against her skin, somehow heard the SANE nurse in the background comparing dimensions of every wound, every bruise marring her body. Her eyes unfocused, she stared into the lens of the camera, somehow willing its existence to fade, somehow willing herself to escape the reality in front of her. She fought for control over her body as she felt herself slipping in and out of consciousness. _

_Vaguely, Olivia heard the distraught and soothing voice around her. She strained to make out the words, but they were like dreams floating around, too far away to grasp. She felt a cool rush of air as the nurse pulled the fabric of the hospital gown away from her body leaving her exposed, vulnerable…_

The shrill ringing of the phone sliced through Olivia's reverie, and the images faded away to nothing. She fought to quiet her pounding heart. With trembling hands, she reached for her phone, allowing her fingers to close around it. Drawing in a deep breath, she flipped it open. "Benson." Her voice was quiet, tentative.

"Liv?"

Olivia heard the hesitation behind the single word. She tightened her fingers around the phone in her hand. "El, what's going on?"

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay." Elliot's voice was uncharacteristically soft and filled with an emotion she couldn't quite place.

"El, I'm fine," she insisted. She let her voice soften. "Captain sent me home."

"I know."

Olivia waited, searching for a way to interpret his silence on the other end of the line. "Look, El, I…"

"Olivia, are you home alone?"

She blinked, startled by the directness of his question. "Yes, El. I'm home alone." As soon as the words escaped from her lips, it hit her. "Wait a minute. What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded.

"Nothing." Elliot's words were too quick on the other end of the line.

She frowned. "No, El. What the hell is that supposed to mean?" There was no response. She pushed on. "You son of a bitch. You don't trust me."

"Olivia, I never said I didn't trust you," Elliot blurted out quickly.

"No, you're right." Olivia's voice was suddenly cold. "You never say what you mean, Elliot. I don't need a babysitter. I can take care of myself." Without another word, she snapped her phone shut before he could question her further, before he could identify the unsettling emotion she hadn't quite been able to mask in her voice.

* * *

Elliot stared down at the phone in his hand in shock. The initial relief that she was safe subsided quickly, replaced by a guilt that penetrated deep within him. Jesus Christ, at what point had every word that escaped his lips started coming across as so insensitive, so uncaring? At what point had every tiny step forward left him sliding backward into a downward spiral? When had he stopped being able to sense what she needed from him?

"Did you get ahold of Liv?" Munch moved closer, searching Elliot's face for a response.

Elliot snapped back to attention. "Yeah, she's fine," he finally managed. He surveyed the basement quickly. "Look, I know that Liv can take care of herself, but I'd just feel better if I can get her back to the House where I know she's safe. Do you think you and Fin can manage the scene if I just check in with her?"

Munch nodded. "Sure, Elliot, no problem. We've got you covered. I'll call the Cap and give him a heads up." As Elliot started to walk away, he hesitated. "Elliot…"

Elliot turned around slowly.

Munch gave him a look of understanding that went far beyond what words could communicate. "Elliot, even if she won't admit it to you, Liv knows that you're just trying to help her."

Elliot swallowed hard. "Thanks, John," he answered softly. As he turned away, he hoped that no one else could hear the regret hidden behind his words. It wasn't until he was hidden from view and in the privacy of the squad car that he finally allowed himself to expel the breath he hadn't realized he was still holding. He dropped his head in his hands to draw himself together, completely oblivious to the storm raging outside the car. When he was ready, he finally pulled away from the curb, his phone clenched tightly in his hands. With the push of a button, he flipped it to speakerphone and without even glancing down at the keypad, found her number by memory. It wasn't until he heard the phone begin to ring that he realized he had no idea what to say.

* * *

Olivia stared back at the phone in front of her dully. It was ringing…again. She didn't even have to glance down to know whose number was displayed. It wasn't going to change. She tucked her feet underneath her until finally the ringing quieted. She allowed herself to breathe again, silently counting down the seconds until it began to ring again. Damn Elliot for being so persistent. Damn Elliot for caring so much. She blinked hard. She didn't need him to care. She didn't need him to check up on her. She just needed to find a way to make this deep trepidation, this hollow feeling within her fade away. Tentatively, she reached for the bottle on the coffee table in front of her and raised it to her lips. Her breath caught in her throat. Damn it. Why couldn't she just take a drink? Why couldn't she let herself go? Why couldn't she push herself toward feeling something, anything other than the emotions that consumed her now?

She spun the cap back on the bottle before letting it drop down beside her. She glanced down at the phone. For the first time since Elliot's first phone call, it was silent. She picked up her phone again, staring down at the display screen. She had worked with so many victims throughout the years. She had watched some of them fall, had watched some of them slowly start to piece together their lives. She had watched them push away their family, their spouse, their significant other. She had watched each of them push everyone away until there was nobody left, until they finally succeeded in reaching the one place where they could pretend that nothing had ever happened.

She chewed on her lower lip, flipping her phone open again. She considered calling him back and apologizing. She considered calling him back and yelling at him until anger pushed aside every other emotion. But she had no idea what to say. She had no idea how to explain to him that she understood without admitting that she needed help. She had no idea how to tell him she was sorry without falling apart. She had no idea how to…

Her thoughts were interrupted as she realized that somebody was at the door. She could hear the buzzing from the panel across the room announcing his presence. As she crossed the room toward it, she had no doubt who was on the other end. She closed her eyes and found the button on the controlled access panel as if by memory. "Elliot, go away."

"Olivia, please. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…please let me come up."

"Damn it, Elliot. I don't want to talk about it. Just go away." She stared back at the panel, waiting for a response. It never came.

Pure panic gripped her. Oh, God, what if she had finally succeeded? What if she had finally pushed too hard, too far? What if he had given up on trying to get through to her and decided it wasn't worth it? She struggled to find the words to say she was sorry. She struggled to find the words to tell him that she still needed him. She struggled to find anything that came remotely close to telling him everything she needed to say. And yet somehow, she still came up empty. Somehow, every word, every excuse seemed to disintegrate before they could escape her lips. And so she did the only thing that she knew how to do. She leaned on the release button for the door, silently hoping that she wasn't too late.

* * *

"You're lying." Cragen stared at the figure across from his office as if willing him to disappear. He closed his eyes. "It's not possible."

Tucker shook his head. "I'm sorry, Don. I wish to hell it wasn't true, but I believe him. When's the last time anyone heard from Elliot?"

Cragen ignored the question. "There's no way in hell I'm using her as bait. She can't handle it."

"I can't handle what?" Olivia's voice rang out from the doorway. Her eyes swept across the two figures in the room and landed on Tucker with an accusatory glare. "Something tells me you lied to me on the phone."

"I need a favor," Tucker answered nervously.

"No, you don't," Cragen interrupted, his words cold. "And you had absolutely no right to call her in here tonight."

Olivia hesitated. "You told me Captain needed my help with the case. What the hell is going on here?"

Cragen didn't bother to answer her. He turned back toward Tucker with a glare. "I am not going to let you put her back in there with your brother."

Olivia paused, her eyes darting back and forth between the two men. Her voice was quiet when she spoke. "I think somebody better tell me what's going on here."

"Elliot is missing." As soon as the words escaped his lips, Tucker felt Cragen's murderous glare settling on him. He flinched slightly. "She deserves to know."

Olivia turned toward Cragen, puzzled. "What do you mean missing? He was just at my apartment less than an hour ago."

"Did you actually see him?" Cragen demanded quickly.

She shook her head. "No, he left without coming up." She paused, the realization behind her words settling in quickly. She sank down in a chair. "I thought I had just pushed him too hard. I never thought…" She turned toward Tucker. "I'll do whatever I can. Tell me what he wants."

"He wants to talk to the two of you together." Tucker searched her face for a response.

She nodded without hesitation. "I'll do it."

"Like hell you will. Olivia, we have no idea what he wants with you. I am not sending you in there."

"Captain, you don't have a choice. This is Elliot we're talking about here. I need to be there for my partner. Now if I can do something to help, you have to trust me." She raised her eyes to meet his stubbornly.

"Olivia, you're not thinking clearly," Cragen insisted softly.

"Captain, he's taken everything else away from me. I'm not going to let him take what I have left. I'm going in there with or without you."

Cragen stared back at the look of resolution on her face, the strength that he had thought had long since faded reflecting in her eyes. He let his eyes shift over to Tucker and saw the same desperation that he felt within him. He let his shoulders fall forward dejectedly and let out a long, deep breath. "You're not going in there alone."

"I'll go." Tucker's voice was quiet. "He's my brother. I'll go with her." He raised his eyes to meet Cragen's as if to reassure him. "Don, I'll make sure she's safe."

* * *


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

* * *

Elliot's eyes fluttered open slowly. As his eyes adjusted to the soft light in the room, he searched for a familiar face and froze instantly. _He_ was there. After all this time, he was right there in front of him. Elliot tried to remember what had happened, but his only indication was the sharp pain radiating from the right side of his head. Then suddenly he remembered. Damn it. He groaned quietly.

"You're awake."

Elliot stared back at him, his mouth set in a tense line. "I would have been to begin with if you hadn't knocked me out."

Jamison shrugged casually. "Sorry about that."

"I can tell you're really broken up about it." Elliot shifted his gaze up to the handcuffs around his wrists before finally settling on the Glock pointed at his chest. "Just tell me," he began quietly. "Why my partner? You could have hurt anyone else in my life. Why the hell did it have to be her?"

Jamison moved closer, kneeling down beside him. "I wanted you to feel what it's like to let your partner down. I wanted you to feel what it's like to know that you're responsible for what happened to her."

Elliot blinked hard. "Alex Jamison was my father's partner. My father never let him down. He was a good partner."

"Your father was a good cop. He was a lousy partner," Jamison retorted.

"My father lost his job, his pension." Elliot's jaw tightened. " He lost everything he had because he refused to testify against your father. How the hell is that being a bad partner?"

Jamison returned his gaze for a long time before he finally responded. "You cops are all alike." He leaned closer. "Well, let me tell you something, Stabler. A good partner isn't just someone who abides by some damn thin blue line code of silence. A good partner is someone who realizes when his partner has gone too far and steps in to stop him."

His words slammed into Elliot with a force that momentarily stunned him. Then suddenly, everything made sense. "This has never just been about what happened to your father, was it?"

Jamison moved closer, pressing the Glock to Elliot's temple. "I don't want to talk about it," he returned tersely.

* * *

"Elliot." Olivia's voice was trembling with uncertainty. She took a tentative step forward. "Elliot, it's me."

"Get out of here, Olivia."

Olivia heard the catch in his voice and ignored it. She swallowed hard, trying to gauge the direction of his voice. She turned around to face Tucker and held out her hand. _Stay here_, she mouthed silently. She stared into his eyes, silently pleading for him to understand. His rushed explanation on the car ride over had done little to prepare her for this moment, but she didn't care. She didn't care if he had as much at stake as she did. She didn't care if Cragen had ordered him to tag along. She was going in there to save her partner, and she had every intention of doing it alone.

"Olivia, I'm not letting you go in there by yourself." Tucker's voice was hushed, barely audible.

"Yes, you are." She turned around to face him slowly. "Tucker, if you want your brother to come out of here alive, you better damn well let me do my job. He wants me in there, and he wants me in there alone." She gave him a look that stopped him in his tracks. She took a deep breath, dropping her Glock slightly as she rounded the corner into view.

The scene in front of her left her momentarily paralyzed. In the rare moments she had managed to sleep since her attack, she had dreamt of this moment--of seeing him again, of confronting him. But nothing had prepared her for this. Nothing had prepared her for the harsh reality in front of her now. This was every nightmare from the last six months rolled up into one earth-shattering moment. This was memories of Victor Paul Gitano and Bradley Garrett Jamison in an inextricable struggle that suddenly left her unable to distinguish where one had left off and the other had begun.

"Elliot, I'm not leaving you here alone." She had no idea how the words that escaped from her lips managed to sound so strong when everything inside of her had instantly been turned upside down. She had no idea how she managed to hold her Glock in front of her with steady hands when her entire body seemed to be trembling violently. She turned toward Jamison. "You wanted me here, you've got it. Just please let him go."

Jamison smirked back at her. "Looks like your partner here has a soft spot for you," he announced smugly. His eyes flickered briefly over to Elliot before returning to her. "Or did you just miss me?"

"Let her go, Jamison," Elliot commanded, his words suddenly hoarse. "She has nothing to do with this."

"That's where you're wrong, Stabler. She has everything to do with this. She's your partner."

"Yes, Bradley. He's my partner. That's what this is all about, isn't it?" She tilted her head slightly before continuing. "You told me that I was special, and I didn't understand at the time what you meant by that. But now I think I do."

"You were different. You were the true test." Jamison stared back at her as if somehow willing her to understand.

Olivia nodded. "Because of our partnership, you mean. Elliot and I have been partners for a long time. He's always been there for me."

"He wasn't there for you last week." Elliot heard the words as they fell from Jamison's lips and felt his jaw tightening, felt the beginning signs of anger pulsing within him. He felt himself beginning to lose the tedious grip on control that he was so desperate to cling to.

"That's where you're wrong." Olivia's voice was quiet, soothing. There was something in its soft, even timbre that managed to extinguish every last bit of anger in a way that Elliot had never been able to explain. There was something in her eyes that instantly connected with him on a level that he couldn't even begin to describe. There was a comfort there, a familiarity that he knew and understood. Every other person in the world seemed to vanish until it was just the two of them left alone in that moment to communicate every emotion they had been holding back for months.

"Our partnership is different from your father's, Elliot." Olivia's voice softened. "Because even when you're not right there with me, I know that you're still there. When I completely screw up, I know you're going to be the first person to tell me and the only one to help me through it."

"Olivia, I'm the one who screwed up." Elliot's voice was suddenly devoid of anger. It was gentle now, his eyes searching hers for forgiveness, his word filled with regret. "I never told you the truth. I was so afraid of admitting that I needed you that I let you walk away after Victor Gitano. But Liv, I can't do this job without you."

Elliot bowed his head, somehow willing her to understand the one thing that up until now he'd never been able to comprehend himself. "Olivia, I've done nothing but screw up. Every time I've lost control, you've brought me back. Every time I've pushed when I shouldn't have, you were there to reign me in. Every time I gave up on a case, you reminded me why I should keep going."

"Elliot," she protested softly.

"No, I'm not done yet, Olivia." He drew in a shaky breath. "When Cragen put me with Blaine, I had no idea how to be the strong one. I had no idea how the hell you'd managed to put up with me for so long when I had never given you back anything in return."

"Elliot, that's not true." Olivia's voice had dropped to a whisper.

Elliot raised a tear-stained face to meet hers, completely oblivious to the gun that was still pointed at his head. Because it didn't matter. Nothing else mattered. He didn't care if he never made it through this day because it wasn't worth it if he couldn't finally tell her the truth that they'd been dodging since the moment Victor Gitano had turned their lives upside down.

"Yes, Olivia, it is true," he admitted sadly. "You've never asked me for anything, and all I've done is demand that you be strong enough for both of us."

Olivia stared back at him and saw the fear and insecurity in his eyes. She watched the fight draining from his body, and for the first time, she stated to panic. Because Elliot was all wrong. She had never been the strong one. Her strength was only as strong as the bond that held them together. Her strength only existed as long as he refused to give up. Her strength was his. At some point through the years, she had forgotten what it was like to exist as one person and had come to know only existing as one half of a pair, a set, a partnership.

"Elliot, that strength comes from you. Don't you remember what I was like when I first joined this unit? I had no idea what it meant to be strong. You were the one who told me I could do it when all I wanted to do was cry. You taught me that my life could be about more than just my past. El, you're the only person in this world who's ever been there for me."

"And that's exactly the problem, Liv." Elliot drew in a shaky breath. "You've always settled for whatever I was willing to give you instead of asking for everything you deserve."

"Elliot, you've given me everything I've ever wanted."

"Stop it." Jamison's voice tore through her words. "Both of you just shut the hell up."

Fueled by pure desperation, Olivia whipped her head back around to face Bradley. She searched his eyes, the eyes of a complete stranger that were somehow hauntingly familiar. For the first time, she allowed herself to absorb his appearance, to look beyond the list of facial features she had committed to memory in an effort to identify him in the inevitable line-up. And finally she saw in him what her subconscious had already realized. She saw in him the reason for her emotional breakdown in the squad room. She saw in him a young, insecure version of Edward Tucker.

"Your brother told me about what happened with your father." Olivia allowed her words to soften again. She needed to find out the truth. She needed to find answers for both of them. She needed to find closure.

"You don't know anything about my family."

"You're right," Olivia affirmed quietly. "The man who fathered me was a rapist. He raped my mom, but I never knew him. Your father raped your mother, and you had to face him every day of your life."

Bradley rose to his feet unsteadily, pointing an accusing finger at Elliot. "I wouldn't have had to face him if your father had done his job in the first place. If your father hadn't tried to cover it up, my mother would still be alive."

Olivia stepped closer. "Tell me what happened the day she died."

"He was scheduled for arraignment that day," Bradley began bitterly. He laughed. "My father didn't just rape my mother. He used to beat up on her too. One day, she finally had the courage to report it." He glared at Elliot. "Your father tried to get the whole case thrown out, and it worked. My brother and I were too afraid to tell the truth, and the only other witness was Joseph Stabler. Your father refused to testify against his partner."

Olivia nodded as the pieces finally began to fall into place. "What happened next?" she prodded gently.

"My brother was supposed to stay home and watch me, but his best friend had a birthday party that day so my mom rushed home from court to be with me instead. When they dismissed the charges, my father came home. My mother tried to call Joe for help, but my father wouldn't let her. He told her that his partner would always stick up for him, that he'd just proven that in court. He raped her just like he always did and then he started to hit her. He kept telling her he'd make her sorry she'd tried to turn his partner against him. He kept hitting her until she stopped moving."

Olivia exhaled softly. "You watched him beat her to death."

"He didn't just beat her to death. I watched him murder her, and then I watched him turn around and kill himself," Bradley corrected bitterly.

Olivia drew in a deep breath. "Bradley, I'm sorry for what happened to your family, but that wasn't Joe's fault and it wasn't Elliot's fault either. It was your father's, and I know that you don't want to be like him."

"I'm nothing like my father."

Elliot laughed. "You're exactly like your father. You raped and killed Leslie Carlton. You raped my partner and then set fire to my apartment with her inside."

"I met Leslie outside the dress shop. I needed her help, and even though she wouldn't admit it, she needed mine. She was all alone." He paused. "I know what that's like. I had to save her."

"And Olivia?" Elliot challenged.

"I had no choice. I thought it was all over when I heard your father died. But then I found out that you were a cop too. My brother told me how you had assaulted another officer in the bathroom at the courthouse. And that's when I knew that you were exactly like him."

"I stopped my old partner from beating up his son!"

Bradley's eyes flickered with the slightest hint of doubt. "No, you're lying. I've been watching you. I talked to your wife. You're just like him."

"I would never hurt my family."

Bradley began to back away, his hand trembling as he pointed the gun back at Elliot. His fingers eased toward the trigger. "You and your partner are too close. When partners get too close, they lose sight of what's right. They lose their ability to do their job and to protect others. I am not going to let that happen again."

"Bradley, put the gun down."

Bradley whirled around at the voice behind him. As he shifted, Olivia sprang into action, but he was too quick. He turned the gun back toward her before she could get close. "What are you doing here, Ed?"

Tucker's voice was raw with emotion. "I know what happened is all my fault. If I had been there to protect you, we wouldn't be here right now. But Bradley, you have to let me protect you now. You have to give me the gun."

Jamison laughed bitterly as he edged closer to Elliot again. "You always think you can protect everyone. You always think that you can make everything better. Well, guess what, Edward? You can't make it all better. No matter how many bad cops you take off the street now, you're never going to be able to change what he did."

Tucker recoiled as if he'd been slapped. "I'm not going to let you hurt anyone else."

Olivia never heard him. Her eyes were focused straight ahead on Elliot and the gun now flush with his temple. But not just any gun. She closed her eyes briefly. It was _her_ gun. Bradley had her gun to her partner's head.

"I'm sorry, Ed, but there's only one way to get justice now."

Olivia saw her helplessness mirrored in Tucker's eyes. She swallowed hard. There was no movement, no sound as Elliot's eyes held hers, speaking to her, urging her…apologizing to her. She shook her head. "Elliot, no!" She dropped one arm, taking careful aim. Her eyes burned with a torture she had never known. There was no time left. Bradley was ready to snap at any moment, and nothing she did could make a difference. It was a helplessness she had never felt before, the utter certainty that no words or movement could ever have any effect on the man that stood before her now. "Elliot," she echoed softly.

Olivia watched the hollow, empty look in his eyes change to resignation. She felt his eyes passing over her face as if memorizing every detail. They met the utter anguish in her eyes, and she felt her throat tightening in her chest.

"Olivia, I'm sorry," Elliot whispered dejectedly.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the look of resolution in Bradley's eyes mirrored by the look of total acceptance in Elliot's own eyes. "Elliot, no!" Tears clouded her vision as the first shot rang out, and the world before her melted away in one earth-shattering moment.

* * *


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

* * *

"How's the Stephens' case coming?" Munch looked up just in time to see the file that dropped on his desk.

"I don't know, Cap. We're fresh out of leads. And right now…" His voice broke, echoing the yet unspoken words that were on everyone's mind.

"Go talk to Huang. He's waiting for you now." Cragen waited, but there was no protest. Nothing more than a silent acceptance that for once in his life, John might actually need someone to talk to. Cragen crossed the desk to Fin and touched a hand to his shoulder. "I should have said this a long time ago. You're next."

"Captain, I can't deal with this right now."

"Fin, that wasn't a request. That was an order. We're all going, myself included. Somehow we're going to figure out…" He stopped, unable to choke out the words. "We're going to figure out how to move forward from here."

* * *

"How are you holding up?"

The typical biting, sarcastic comeback never came. "I don't know. I can't figure out what happened?" Munch brushed back the hint of wetness on his cheek, his dark glasses shielding anyone from seeing the pain that clouded his eyes.

"Why does anything like this ever happen? You can't make sense out of it. Olivia probably felt as if she didn't have a choice. She was trying to save her partner." Huang sat next to him. For the first time, there was no textbook explanation, no easy answer to the questions that plagued them all.

"She's been traumatized enough by what happened to her. She shouldn't have gone in there. She didn't need to see that." Munch hesitated. "George, we aren't going to make it through without her. What if she doesn't come back?"

"It's going to take time, John. But Olivia is stronger than anyone gives her credit for. She'll be back when she's ready."

* * *

Casey heard the door slam shut behind her, but somehow it didn't register. She stepped into the cell, her eyes immediately drawn to the two figures already seated at the table. "What the hell is this?" She glared back at the two men across from her.

"Casey, please just listen," Tucker pleaded.

"No, I'm not listening to a damn word you say. And if I had known that you were the one who wanted me in here, I wouldn't have come in the first place." She turned her icy glare toward Bradley. "I can't talk to you without your lawyer present."

"He'll waive his Miranda rights. Just give me a chance, Casey."

She whipped back around at the sound of Tucker's voice. "You want _me_ to give _you_ a chance? You have got to be kidding me. After what you just did?"

"What are you talking about?"

Casey laughed bitterly. "I don't know why the hell Cragen let you into that room knowing the history there, but I'm not about to make that same mistake."

"You want to talk about mistakes, Casey," Tucker broke in quietly. He pulled her aside. "Look, I'm not the one who was pulled off of the job because I couldn't hold it together. Now I know that this case is important to you, but you have to hear me out."

Casey stepped back, stunned. "That's a low blow, Tucker…even for you."

"Look, Casey, I don't know what the hell anyone told you about what happened, but you at least owe me the professional courtesy of listening to what I have to say."

Casey crossed her arms over your chest. "Fine, you want to talk. You've got five minutes." She opened up her briefcase, digging out a form. She turned toward Bradley, tossing the paperwork and a pen at him. "But you don't say a word until you sign this."

* * *

"Don?" Huang drew in a deep breath. "Don, talk to me about it."

"I've seen a hell of a lot in my days, but this…this doesn't even come close. I don't know if I can do it anymore." Cragen stared blankly at the wall in front of him.

"How are you dealing with it?"

"Every other cop in this unit has been picking up the slack since this whole thing started. They can't handle the new cases coming in. But half of my detectives are gone and the other half are physically here, but they're barely functioning. I've had to call the chief of D's in to route cases to other bureaus for a few days until we can figure something out. He's trying to get someone to cover the Stephens' case right now."

"Don, that's not what I meant."

"I know," Cragen acknowledged softly. "They're like my children. They're the only family I have left, and I don't think any of them are going to be able to get over what happened." Cragen finally looked up. "I keep telling myself that maybe I could have prevented it somehow."

"Don, there's no good choice. No clear cut right or wrong. You had no way of knowing what was going to happen in that house."

Cragen nodded. "That's true, but I should have known better than to allow Tucker to go in behind Olivia. He was too involved in the case, and I knew that. But I was afraid of what I would do if I was the one who went in there so I let him." Cragen's voice faltered. "George, I swear to God I never thought he'd shoot Elliot."

* * *

"I trusted the damn bastard."

Huang searched Fin's face carefully for a response. "You mean Tucker?"

A curt nod was Fin's only response. "I should have shot him when I had the chance."

Huang froze. He lowered his pen carefully. "Do you really think that more violence is the answer?"

"Doesn't matter what I think, and don't try to shrink me, Doc. I didn't shoot anyone. Believe me, if I was gonna kill him, I would have already done it."

"Fin, have you tried to talk to Tucker about what happened?"

"Why would I do that? I don't need to talk to him to know that he didn't have Liv's back in there. There was only one person whose ass he was tryin' to cover."

"You need to talk to someone because there's more to the story than that. Fin, Tucker came into my office after it happened to talk to me about it. And if you won't get the truth out of him, then at least talk to Olivia or Elliot."

* * *

Olivia gazed out at the tiny specks dotting the edges of the shore. She gingerly dipped her foot into the water. The unexpected rush of cold water made her shiver as she withdrew her foot. Experimentally, she let her other foot graze over the water's smooth surface. The water rippled around it, bouncing off the shores and disappearing in the current. Olivia watched, somewhat satisfied as the last of the ripples was swallowed up by the water around it.

"Olivia." The single word shattered her reverie. Olivia didn't even have to look up to know that Elliot was now sitting beside her. "I thought I might find you here."

For the first time, she turned to face him. She raised her eyebrow suspiciously. "You thought you would find me in Central Park?"

He forced a small smile. "All right so Cragen told me where to find you."

She laughed softly. "Yeah, that's what I thought. How are you feeling?"

He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Like I was shot," he returned dryly.

She fought back a smile at his light-hearted tone. "Yeah, well you're lucky Tucker beat Bradley to it. A plastic bullet hurts a hell of a lot less than a real one."

Elliot stared straight ahead, searching for the words he needed to ask. There were so many things he wanted to say to her, so many things he needed her to hear, but he had no idea how to begin. "So what are you doing out here anyway?"

"I've lived in the city my entire life, and I've never come out here just for the sake of being here," Olivia mused. She dropped her focus to the ground, feeling the blades of grass beneath her fingertips.

Elliot nodded. "So why now?"

She didn't answer his question. "El, I can't go back." She finally raised her eyes to meet his. "I can't do it."

Her words slammed into him hard. She was leaving him…again. She was leaving this unit. She was leaving this partnership. She was leaving everything she had ever known and everything that had ever been important to her. He swallowed hard. "What do you mean you can't go back?"

Elliot searched her face for something more, some indication that he had misheard her. He could barely breathe, barely comprehend the significance behind her words. He had no idea how to survive without her. He had no idea how to move forward without her. He wanted to believe that he could give her something more. He wanted to believe that he could support her in doing whatever she needed to do for herself, but as much as he tried, he couldn't do it. He couldn't accept that she needed to move on. He couldn't accept that she needed some distance. He couldn't accept that she needed him to be unselfish for one moment and consider her needs.

"How long?" The words were barely more than a whisper as they fell from his lips. When she didn't respond, he took a deep breath. "You are coming back, right?"

Her eyes returned to the ground. She continued to twist the same damn blade of grass through her fingertips as his world was flung upside down. "I don't know, El."

* * *

"Wait a minute. What do you mean there's more to it than that. We all heard Tucker tell his brother it was his turn for revenge. We all heard the gunshot. We saw Elliot on his way to the hospital. I think it's pretty damn clear what happened. What else is there to know?"

Huang turned back to Fin. "Tucker knew his brother was about ready to snap, and he didn't trust the fact that he would be able to get to him in time. He also didn't trust himself to shoot his own brother. He had plastic bullets in his gun. Tucker shot first to save Elliot. He wasn't trying to hurt him. He was trying to protect him."

"So if Elliot's fine, why hasn't he come back?"

"Because Elliot knew that Olivia had already told everyone here that he was okay, and because he needed some time off. This whole case hit him pretty hard. He hasn't quite adjusted to the fact that it's finally over."

Fin massaged his temples. "We really screwed up. We should have trusted him. We just…" He bowed his head. "We just assumed Tucker was the bad guy. We never gave him a chance."

"Tucker feels pretty guilty about everything his brother has done," Huang acknowledged. "He blames himself for letting it happen. He's devoted his whole life to trying to right his father's wrongs, and he feels like somehow he screwed up again."

"Where is he now?"

"He's at Rikers with his brother. He's trying to talk him into pleading out the case so that Olivia doesn't have to go through a trial. He doesn't want to put her through anything more than she's already been through."

* * *


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

* * *

"Don?" Huang nudged the door open gently. He stood inside the doorway for a moment as if unsure how to proceed.

Cragen returned his hesitant stare. He sighed. "Just tell me. How bad is it?"

George allowed the door to fall closed behind him. "Are you sure you really want to know?"

Cragen shook his head. "No, I don't." He drew in a shaky breath. "But it's about time we stop running from the truth. Nothing is going to magically change overnight, and we have to start accepting that."

Huang nodded. "Well, none of you are dealing with what's happened. Fin is just plain angry, and you're never going to be able to heal until you stop blaming yourself for what happened. But I've got to tell you, I'm more concerned with John." Huang hesitated. "Don, I don't need to tell you that numerous studies have shown a genetic predisposition to depression."

The words sank in slowly. "You're talking about what happened with his father," Cragen acknowledged quietly. As soon as the words slipped from his lips, Cragen closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he studied Huang's face carefully. "George, mild depression is something that I expect most of this squad to experience after what happened, but are you telling me that this could be more serious than that? Do you really think that John might hurt himself?"

"I think that John realizes how much his father's suicide affected those that survived, and I think that he's fully aware of how what happened to Olivia is affecting him. He's afraid that this case may push him too far, and that's the reason he went back to Gwen. He was afraid to be alone."

"If you've got a suggestion, Doc, I'm all ears."

George nodded. "John is willing to talk about it, and I think I can help him through it, but it's going to take time. It's going to take time for all of you." George hesitated "And I can't do it alone. Don, this unit is like a family to one another, and that family is in pieces right now. They're all looking at you to help put those pieces back together."

* * *

"Olivia, we all need you to come back." Elliot drew in his breath sharply, searching her face for a response--not that he deserved one. Nothing he had said warranted a response from her. God, he was being selfish. He couldn't heal on his own, so once again he was asking her to do it for him, to help ease his own pain. "Damn it, Liv." He closed his eyes. "I'm sorry. That came out wrong." Even as the words slipped out, he felt the betrayal behind them. He was asking her to choose between something he couldn't even begin to understand.

"Elliot," Olivia began slowly, forcing him to look back at her. "I'm not doing this for myself. I'm doing it for you. How the hell am I supposed to watch your back if I can't hold myself together?"

"Liv, I trust you. No matter what happens, I'll always trust you."

"Elliot, I don't deserve that trust right now." She took a deep breath. "When we were in that house, I dropped my guard."

"What are you talking about, Liv?" Elliot stopped, the confusion on his face evident. "You're the one who got a confession out of Bradley. You're the one who found out the truth."

"Elliot, when Tucker shot you…" Her voice broke, replaced by the image that refused to fade from her memory.

_She saw Elliot fall to the ground through a daze, and in a split second she knew what she had to do. Tucker's hand drew back slightly from the impact of the explosion. Every instinct, every bit of her training told her to fire her weapon and end it all. But in that moment, she knew with absolute clarity what she needed to do. Suddenly, she found herself staring at Eric Plummer. His words, not Tucker's filled her head. She could see Plummer's eyes, not Jamison's begging her to end it all._

_She had let Eric Plummer win. She had lived with the guilt of that moment for the last four years. She couldn't give Tucker or Jamison the same satisfaction. She couldn't let either of them die knowing that they had destroyed her life, destroyed her partnership. As she heard the second shot ring out, she let her hand fall to her side and braced herself for what was to come._

"Olivia?" Elliot's words were quiet. She tore herself away from the memory of that moment. "You didn't know, did you?"

Olivia shook her head, wordlessly. "The minute I thought I lost you is the minute I stopped fighting back, Elliot."

* * *

"Can I help you with something?" Fin shifted slightly in his seat, examining the man who stood nervously next to his desk.

"Probably not. I don't know why the hell I came in here. I just thought…never mind." The man turned away quickly, taking a step toward the door.

"Whoa, hold on just a second." Fin motioned to the seat next to his desk. He surveyed the relatively empty bullpen. "Why don't you sit down and tell me why you're here."

The man dropped into the chair, finally allowing himself to look at the detective in front of him. "What's your name?" he asked cautiously.

Fin sighed. "Detective Odafin Tutuola. Call me Fin. And you are?"

"My name is Andrew Stephens. I'm…"

_Stephens._ Fin closed his eyes as the pieces fell into place. He quickly scanned his memory for the details of the case he and Munch were supposed to be working on. "You're Sarah's brother?"

Andrew nodded. "Yeah, listen. I should go. I'm sure you're really busy."

Fin met his eyes. "I know that what happened to your sister is really hard to deal with, and I'm sorry." He took a deep breath. "Sometimes we don't realize that it's not just the victim who is affected by what happened. It's pretty rough on the family too."

Andrew blew out the breath he had been holding. "I want to be there to help her, but I'm just so angry about what happened. And when I get angry, sometimes I say or do things that I don't mean. And…it just ends up hurting her more," he finished miserably.

Fin nodded. "It's easier to say the wrong thing than to try to make sense of what happened. And it's easier to push everyone away than to accept that you're each hurting in your own way."

"Yeah, I guess so." Andrew pulled himself up to his feet.

Fin reached out for his arm. "Just talk to her, Andrew. Tell her how you feel. Tell her that you're there for her." He took a deep breath. "And tell her that you understand if she's not ready to accept your help just yet. But make sure she understands that when she does, you'll be there for her."

* * *

"Can I come in?"

Munch shrugged his shoulders, moving aside to let Cragen pass through the doorway. "A house call. What did I do now?"

Don allowed a small smile to pull at the corner of his lips. "What makes you think you did anything wrong?" He surveyed Munch's house and realized for the first time that he had never been inside of it.

"Expecting something a little different, Captain?" Munch observed, his eyebrows raised as he watched his eyes scan over the living room.

"Maybe," Cragen answered hesitantly.

"Don't worry, Cap. I hid the razor blade and pill bottles before you came in," Munch cracked with a small smile.

Cragen sighed. "Am I that transparent?"

"You know men are statistically far more likely to choose more lethal methods of suicide."

Cragen rolled his eyes. "Maybe I just expected to see black helicopters parked in your living room?"

"Sorry to disappoint you. I must have scared them all away." Without missing a beat, Munch motioned toward the couch. Cragen eased himself down onto it. "So, you talked to Huang?"

Cragen hesitated. "I never said that."

"You didn't have to. It's written all over your face." Munch sighed. "I'm fine, Captain. I'll keep going in to see someone until I get through this."

Cragen nodded. "I know you'll be fine," he agreed softly. "But when you're not, you know where to find me."

* * *

"You know, Olivia, you don't have to fight this alone. I'm not going anywhere."

Olivia studied his face carefully. "And you don't have to fight your past alone, El." She drew in a shaky breath. "Why didn't you tell me about your father?"

He turned away from her, avoiding her gaze. "I don't know, Liv. My father and I never really saw eye to eye. The only thing that I ever really shared with him was this job. And even then, we've never been alike."

Olivia remained silent, waiting until he finally raised his eyes to meet her own. "El, is what happened with Jamison the reason you joined SVU?" she asked quietly.

Elliot nodded silently. "You know my entire life, nothing I ever did was good enough for him. And that case…it was the one time he screwed up. I thought that maybe I could finally make him proud of me for something."

"Elliot, I know that he never knew how to say it, but I'm sure your father was proud of you." Olivia tilted her head up, searching his eyes.

He let his shoulders fall forward. "Maybe, but I'll never really know for sure, Liv. I never really knew my father, and in a way, what happened in that house is the closest I've ever coming to understanding him."

Olivia nodded in agreement. There was a sadness behind his words that she understood all too well--words tinged in uncertainty and regret. "I never understood my mother until these past couple of weeks. How screwed up is that?"

"Speaking of your mother…" Elliot's voice softened. He passed an envelope over to her. "Melinda dropped this off and asked me to give it to you."

Olivia stared at the envelope in her hands. "That was fast," she commented quietly.

Elliot turned toward her inquisitively. "What is it, Liv?"

"I couldn't bring myself up to going back to the hospital for my follow-up so I had Melinda run some tests for me while she was testing for trace amounts of GHB in my hair." Olivia tore the envelope open carefully and lifted the single sheet of paper out, scanning it quickly.

"And…" Elliot prompted.

"Everything came back normal." Olivia sighed in relief. "And I'm not pregnant."

Elliot expelled the breath he had been holding. He turned back toward her hesitantly. "I just feel like what happened to you is somehow my fault. If it weren't for my father, none of this would have ever happened."

"El, you can't control what your father did any more than I can control what happened to my mother. And until you understand that, you're never going to be able to move forward."

"I just don't want you to ever regret me."

"El, I just need a little time to get through this. That's all." Olivia broke off as her phone vibrated against her hip. She pulled it out, fumbling with the buttons. "Damn new phone. I don't suppose CSU is ready to give me my old one back yet?"

Elliot grinned, reaching for her phone and pulling up the text message. "This may be your lucky day," he added, sliding the phone over in front of her.

"It's from Casey. Jamison's pleading guilty." Olivia stared at the message on her phone in disbelief. "How the hell did that happen?"

Elliot laughed. "Maybe Casey's working her magic over at Rikers."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "No offense to Casey, but something tells me that she's not the one behind it. I'd guess Tucker probably had more to do with it."

Elliot groaned. "Don't remind me. I'm having problems adjusting to the fact that Tucker's not quite as bad as we've always made him out to be."

Olivia grinned. "Well, if it makes you feel better, he did shoot you."

Elliot cracked a smile. "Exactly. So are you up for lunch?"

Olivia hesitated. "That depends. Last time you took me out to lunch, it was to a hot dog stand on the corner, and we didn't even have a chance to eat because we got called in on a case."

"That was _not_ the last time I took you to lunch," Elliot insisted.

Olivia laughed. "Okay, so not quite, but that doesn't mean I'm going to let you forget it. I want a real lunch this time."

Elliot turned toward her. "If you want a real lunch, you have to actually put your shoes on," he added, nodding to her bare feet.

Olivia wiggled her toes in the water one last time. "Okay, I'll put my shoes on, and you can treat me to a real lunch," she agreed with a smile.

Elliot nodded and watched as she slid her feet back into her shoes and drew herself up to her feet. He fought back a smile. "So what do you think about Chinese?"

Olivia nodded in agreement as she followed him toward the car. "I guess that's an improvement over a hot dog stand."

"Good," Elliot responded, finally letting his lips curve upward in a smile. He glanced at his watch. "Because if my timing is right, Munch, Fin, and Cragen should be waiting for us back at the House. We've got Chinese and three weeks worth of cases to sort through when we get there."

Olivia arched her eyebrows. "You seem pretty confident I'm coming back to work," she noted as she slid into the passenger seat of the squad car.

"You know you can't stay away," Elliot argued smugly.

Olivia laughed. "So how bad did you guys screw up while I was gone?"

"You don't even want to know," Elliot groaned. "Let's just say, we're glad to have you back, Liv."

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_**Author's Note:** Thank you to everyone for sticking with me through this. It was my first fanfic, and I really appreciate all of the wonderful reviews. You've really inspired me and kept me going throughout this entire process._

_A special thanks to my loyal reviewers--I will miss you guys. And as to those who have been reading, but haven't had a chance to review yet (I know, I'm guilty of that too, but really trying to be better about it), please let me know your final thoughts!_

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